


The Court Martial of Feodor Tspesh

by noktern



Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:10:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noktern/pseuds/noktern
Summary: The Nephi Crisis rages across the stars.  In Parliament City on Hefaux Prime three Lord Commissars preside over the Court Martial of one of their own; the decorated Commissar Feodor Tspesh.  The charges levelled against him are grave: Cowardice Before the Enemy, Dereliction of Duty, and Treason before the Throne.  What could bring a decorated officer of the Officio Prefectus to such an ignoble end?





	1. Dishonoured

Parliament City, Hefaux Prime. Eight years to the day when the Shriven had risen up and murdered the Governor-Elect and his cabinet. They then declared the planet free from the Imperium and allied with the Heretical Ecclesiarch, Malidox Faceen against the Throne. What would one day be called the Nelphi Crisis was still raging across the sector. The Imperium had returned to the planet in force a year later and since then had fought ceaselessly against the forces of corruption. Parliament City and its surrounds were once again occupied by the forces of the Emperor. The Shriven’s leader, the shadowy Lieutenant of Faceen, known only as Animo, was believed to still be at large having evaded capture.

My name is Feodor Tspesh. I was once a proud member of the Commissariate tasked with ensuring the loyalty, bravery, and moral purity of the men and women of the Imperial Guard. We are the exemplars of these standards and the judge, jury, and executioners of those who fall short. The title of Commissar is a feared and respected one within the forces of the Astra Militarum and the Imperial Navy. I have served with pride and distinction upon many battlefields across the sector. Today I stood dishonoured in chains.

“Commissar Feodor Tspesh, you stand charged with Cowardice Before the Enemy, Dereliction of Duty, and Treason before the Throne. Before this Tribunal and the Emperor of Mankind, how do you answer these charges?” I stood, chained to the eagle-shaped podium in the center of the room having been stripped of the trappings of the Commissar. Three Lord-Commissars sat in the high backed Thrones of the former Imperial Governor and his closest aides. They had been called together to pass judgement upon one of their own, by whom I did not know. To my left sat Lord Commissar Elias Severit, the Hero of Hefaux Prime itself. Next to Severit and directly before me, sat Lord Commissar Cassandra Amadeu, the Iron Lady of the Triaxium Crusade. To my right sat the Indomitable Lord Commissar Tebor Gargona, the Shield of Carafax Hive, and notably, my accuser.

In his defence, the Lord Commissar’s accusations most certainly were true. However, as most often is the case, rarely are circumstances exactly how they seem.

“I unable to answer these charges Lord Commissar Gargona,” I replied.

Gargona’s blood was up. “Despite all of your decorations, your actions are a stain upon the name Commissar; Tspesh!” he growled. “Yet you can offer no explanation? No plea? You left your Regiment for reasons unexplained, and the men broke under the pressure of horde!” He stood and drew his bolt pistol in one fluid motion, knocking his chair to the floor. “Many good men died! Answer me!”

Keeping my face as neutral as possible, I replied. “Sir, I have no answer that I may impart that will satisfy you.”

The Lord Commissar’s face twisted with disgust around the augmetic eye and scar tissue that covered half his face. “Coward! It is fortunate that Cadet Commissar Heddock stripped you of your regalia in the field. The blood of a recreant such as yourself should not stain the uniform!”

Reaching up, Lord Commissar Amadeu laid a restraining hand on Gargona’s arm. “We are all greatly disappointed by the charges laid by Cadet Commissar Heddock.” She said. “However, it is precisely because of Commissar Tspesh’s record that this Tribunal has been convened. Please lower your weapon Gargona, you know as well as I that once a Tribunal is called, the judgement must be passed by the Tribunal, not the individual.”

I started down the barrel of the weapon, wondering what it would feel like in the seconds before the explosive bolt crashed through the bone of my skull before shattering it in the resultant explosion. The bolt pistol remained pointed at my face for a moment more before being roughly holstered by Gargona.

“As you say, Lord Commissar Amadeu.” Gargona conceded, though his restrained rage still caused the flesh along the cybernetic implantation to twitch. An aide de camp ran over from the side of the room and set Gargona’s chair back in place. The Lord Commissar resumed his seat slowly, his partially augmented form causing the reinforced wooden chair to creak.

“Let the record show that the accused is unwilling to answer the charges,” Lord Commissar Severit said gravely, looking at me with what appeared to be grim satisfaction. Severit had been stationed on Hefaux Prime before the conflict had broken out. He had fought bravely during the campaign and had even fought his way to freedom after being taken captive. His valour and bravery had won him laurels and his position as Lord Commissar. “In the absence of testimony to refute Cadet Heddock’s account, I think it fair to state that the Tribunal will require very little time deciding your fate Tspesh.” He said with an ominous tone in his voice.

Lord Commissar Amadeu made a tsk noise, signalling her displeasure at the entire situation. “Commissar Tspesh,” She addressed me directly, her tone implying clearly that I had no friends on the Tribunal. “You say that you are unwilling to answer the charges laid against you.”

“Unable, Lord Commissar, that is correct,” I responded glancing over at the empty gallery filled with row upon row of seats. This hall had once been the seat of government on Hefaux Prime, the so-called Parliament of Peers, before the war. Now it stood empty, the former governor and his cabinet among the first to have perished during the uprising.

Amadeu narrowed her eyes slightly. “I see. I, for one, would very much like to hear your account Commissar.” At least she was attempting to adhere to protocol. At that moment that the doors at the rear of the hall opened and the hairs on the back of my neck raised slightly. I turned to glance behind me to see Inquisitor Niobe Van Staal entering the room accompanied by two nondescript Imperial Guard Troopers; Corporal Heronimus Dugg and Private Amelia Khemp; the Emperor rest her soul.

“I would like to hear Commissar Tspesh’s account as well,” the Inquisitor said as she entered the room. If you have never had the pleasure of making the Inquisitors’ acquaintance, allow me the opportunity to introduce you. Niobe Van Staal is of average height with strawberry blond hair and grey eyes the colour of the sky during a storm. She appears to be in her mid-thirties, though appearances can be deceiving. On that day, she wore a heavy storm-coat made of black leather scale over a dark grey bodyglove and heavy boots of the same scaled leather.

All three entered the room armed. Had Van Staal not been a member of the Inquisition, and therefore exempt elevated beyond the authority of even the Commissariate, she and her escorts would have been forced to relieve themselves of their weapons before entering. As it was, twin bolt pistols rested visibly in holsters at the Inquisitor’s hips, and though I was unable to see it, I now know that Van Staal’s infamous force gladius had rested in its sheath hidden from sight at her beneath her coat at her back. Corporal Dugg’s Long Las was slung over his shoulder, and he wore a laspistol on one hip and a long-bladed combat knife on the other. Like the Corporal, Private Khemp wore a laspistol and combat knife at her hips but instead of a Longlas she had a Gaurd issue lasrifle slung over her shoulder.

“Inquisitor Van Staal,” Lord Commissar Gargona greeted her with a nod. “I’m glad you are able to join us. Though, to be honest, I would have thought that you and your retinue would be at the forefront of the pursuit for the Shriven’s heretical leader.”

The Inquisitor smiled in response and took a seat in the front row of gallery seats to my left giving herself a clear view of both myself and the members of the Tribunal. “I believe that Commissar Tspesh’s deposition may yield information useful in that regard Lord Commissar. Hence, my presence.”

“As I said previously, Inquisitor, I can offer no explanation that will satisfy,” I replied, turning to look at the Tribunal.

“I don’t care about satisfaction, Commissar,” The Inquisitor responded. “I care about answers. You may have some for me.”

I thought about it for a moment. Worse case scenario, execution awaited me either way. Best case scenario the Inquisitor might grant me a reprieve, though it was admittedly a long shot. “I face execution, either way, Inquisitor? If I tell you if I help you, will you grant me leniency?”

“Leniency!” Lord Commissar Severit sputtered in protest. “Cowardice from a Commissar before the Enemy deserves no leniency! A Commissar who is derelict in his duty deserves no leniency!” He stood, leaning on the table before him, his face full of fury. “Treason before the Throne deserves no leniency!”

If the Hero of Hefaux Prime was furious, Gargona was livid. His jaw worked in shocked silence.; opening and closing in shock. I’m sure that if Amadeu and one of the aide de camps had not come forward to restrain him, the Shield of Carafax Hive would have torn my head from my shoulders with his bare hands. Even the Lady of Iron’s ordinarily reserved and composed face was twisted with emotion at my terminity. That a decorated Commissar would trade their honour in a bid for leniency was apparently too much, even for her.

I noticed something then looking into the faces of the Tribunal, something wasn’t right, I couldn’t put my finger on it. All shared visages marred by emotion. Fury, loathing, incredulity, and righteousness in one form or another these emotions were clear to read on their faces. As Commissar’s, we are trained in the subtle ways of facial expression, microexpressions, and body language common amongst our species both recognizing them and emulating them. As good as a Commissar is at reading these mute signs, we are as good at imitating them. Something was off. If I had noticed it, you can be sure that the Inquisitor had as well.

“Lord Commissars, please, restrain yourselves!” She stood and calmly interposed herself between the Tribunal and me.

“You aren’t seriously considering entertaining this?” Lord Commissar Amadeu asked after pushing Gargona back into his seat and glaring at Severit. The cold gaze of the Inquisitor met the fiery gaze of the Lord Commissar. After a moment, Amadeu sighing returned to her seat and pinching the bridge of her nose in an unusual display of frustration.

“As you know, Commissars, the remit of the Inquisition supersedes all branches of authority within the Imperium save that of the Holy Emperor himself.” Van Staal passed her gaze over both Severit and Gargona, and they too gathered themselves. She then turned, and her storm grey eyes met my own. “Negotiating with an Inquisitor is a dangerous proposition Commissar Tspesh.”

“What do I have to lose, Inquisitor?” I asked.

She smiled then. “More than you think, Commissar. Your tale?”

“You did not promise leniency.” I smiled back, despite the situation.

“No I didn’t, did I? I also didn’t just rip the answers from your skull,” The Inquisitor stopped smiling. “At least, not yet.”

I paused for a moment more and looked at the three Lord Commissars before looking back at the Inquisitor and addressed her.

“The Killing Fields of Bres,” I began. “Do you know of them and what awaited there?”

“I do,” Van Staal replied.

“Good. For this is where the stage is set.”

 


	2. Bres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested by the Inquisitor, Commissar Tspesh begins to relate his tale. As ordered, the Commissar is to accompany the Herne 323rd Irregulars into Bres and the Killing Fields beyond. The 323rd are a ragtag force of survivors, the remnants of their regiments who endured the first ill-fated push into Parliment City. Within the ruins of Bres, the 323rd and Commissar Tspesh will see first hand the horrors of the Shriven's corruption.

The Killing Fields of Bres. The name has existed since before the rebellion. In the time before the coming of the Imperium, Bres was the site of a vast open market where all manners of beasts were brought from across the countryside for sale and slaughter. When Hefaux Prime was brought into compliance, the new Governor-Elect had the foresight to transition Bres from a simple open-air market into the primary Grox processing center within the Hefaux System. Acres and acres of pens and processing facilities expanded out from the original market into the lands beyond, and the entire populous of Bres and the surrounding villages were tasked with the bloody endeavour.

To hear tell of it, the air was saturated with the smells of blood, Grox excrement, and the lowing of hundreds of thousands of the beasts awaiting processing. No one knows precisely when the Bres Facility earned the moniker, the Killing Fields, but the name once uttered stuck. Despite the best efforts of the subsequent generations of Governor-elects and their Public Relations teams might I add. As we all know, Commissars and Inquisitor’s alike, those who are continuously surrounded by death become numb to it.

A Commissar knows that we not only need to watch our charges for signs cowardice or disloyalty but the antisocial dissociation that comes with having seen too much. Within every one of us there is a tiny switch that, once thrown changes us forever; makes us less than human. For some, that switch is near the surface and almost begging to be thrown. Others bury it deep, employ the guardian’s of Morality, Loyalty, Duty, and Honour and surround it with a wall of Willpower, but it’s still there. Waiting to be thrown.

Lord Commissar Severit snorted, interrupting my account. “Moral sermonizing from one who is charged with cowardice, dereliction of duty, and treason,” He sat back in his throne, shaking his head. “Rich.”

Lord Commissar Amandeu glanced over at her fellow Tribunal member. “Sermonizing or not, Elias, he isn’t wrong. How many have you had to execute or condemn to the penal forces during your career or you Tebor?”

“Enough to not wish to belabour the point or this Court Martial.” Lord Commissar Gargona replied.

“Continue Commissar Tspesh,” Inquisitor Van Staal said, returning to her seat.

So it was that the population of Bres and the surrounding villages, now having been given over to the task of slaughtering and dismembering fields of Grox for generations literally, became fertile ground for the subversive message of the Heretical Ecclesiarch and his Lieutenant. The story is no different across the breadth of the Imperium. The great and powerful across the Emperor’s domain are always viewed by the common labourer and citizen as decadent and corrupt regardless of the reality of the situation. Mankind is a jealous creature is he not?

Rumour states that when Animo came before the first small groups of those he would convert, they knew him. Among those first converts, Animo would groom those he would call his “disciples”; those members that would be sent across the globe to spread his master’s heretical filth and propaganda amongst the populous. How Animo himself had been converted to the Ecclesiarch of Faceen’s false faith is unknown. However, it could be inferred from the tactical acumen he has displayed that Animo served at some point as a middle to high ranked member of the military. If that’s on the mark, Animo could be a member of the Astra Militarium, the Arbites, or possibly a member of the PDF.

“Tell me, why would that be important?” The Inquisitor asked.

“There are a couple of reasons,” Lord Commissar Amadeu responded. “If Animo were known to them and a member of an organization they respected or feared it would explain the relative ease with which they were recruited and the loyalty those few captured “disciples” have displayed.”

“It would also give him first-hand experience with the so-called “decadence” and “moral bankruptcy” that the upper class is believed to engage in.” Lord Commissar Severit added. “He could use that first-hand knowledge to fan the passions of the labourers against the establishment.”

Van Staal stared at the three Lord Commissars for a few moments, her face neutral, before turning her gaze back to me. I took that as leave to continue.

At the end of the day, what matters is that Animo had built an initially quiet but resolute powerbase in the Killing Fields. When the coup was staged, it was there that the rebellion was sparked. The Labourers quickly overwhelmed the Overseers and lay siege to the local Arbites precinct. The Arbites called for reinforcement from Parliament City who, in response, mobilized a portion of the local PDF.

Unbeknownst to the Governor-elect, traitors were already in his midst. General Kadmanu, was deep in Animo’s pockets. He mobilized assets within the PDF loyal to himself and to Animo and sent them in response. When they arrived in Bres, rather than relieving the besieged Arbites, they reduced the fortified precinct to rubble and hung the bodies of the dead from the remains of the walls with their own intestines. While everyone on Hefaux Prime watched the news unfold with mounting horror via remote Pict-cast, Animo and his chosen wet-works team assaulted this very room.

Hijacking one of the Pict-feeds, Animo and his team proceeded to murder the Governor-Elect and his cabinet on livestream. Right there between where I stand chained and the thrones upon which the Lord Commissars sit now. Calling upon the “Shriven” sons and daughters to rise up and free their beloved homeworld from the tyranny of the Imperium and join with the Ecclesiarch of Faceen. Across Hefaux Prime the Shriven rose up and slew their neighbours, friends, and loved ones who resisted.

For an entire week, the planet burned. Greatly outnumbered, the loyalists fought and died. Most were eventually encircled and put to the sword. Some few, like the Lord Commissar Severit here, managed to fight their way free and took refuge for a time in the hinterlands where the Shriven held little sway. You found shelter with the people of Kess did you not Lord Commissar? Pity that the Shriven of the Killing Fields razed Kess to the ground to get to you and the loyal PDF who escaped with you.

“Fascinating, Commissar Tspesh,” Inquisitor Van Staal commented, looking at Severit who was regarded me with a frosty look of contempt. “Tell me, what is the relevance of this historical recount?”

I smiled slightly at the Inquisitor. “All to set the stage, Inquisitor,” I replied. “I think that few outside of this room suspect let alone know the importance of the Killing Fields of Bres. The facility was the epicentre of the rebellion here on Hefaux Prime and functionally the most important.”

Gargona snorted. “Parliament City is far more important strategically than a Grox Processing Facility,” then, he addressed the Inquisitor. “Inquisitor Van Staal, it’s clear that Tspesh is dragging out this Tribunal to delay the inevitable.”

“Whether you believe it or not Lord Commissar, I am a faithful servant of the Commissariat and the Emperor,” I responded. The Inquisitor pursed her lips, considering. I hastily continued. “A soldier who knows why he must hold the line is invested in his duty will stand firm where one who does not will break,” I admit I paused for effect. “He understands the context of the meaning of failure and fights all the harder for it. The listener of a story is no different. How can you put any stock in what I say next if you don’t understand the context? The ‘why’ that puts everything I’m about to explain into perspective.”

Inquisitor Van Staal looked at the Lord Commissar with a questioning look. After a few seconds hesitation, he sighed heavily and then gave a half-hearted wave, evidently giving his consent for me to continue. “Less dissembling Commissar Tspesh, least I find myself in agreement with the Shield of Carafax Hive here.

“Yes, Inquisitor,” I replied.

I was attached to the 323rd Herne Irregulars, a composite force that had been recently lashed together from the surviving levied infantry units from Herne Secundus and Tertius. Most of their number had died during that disastrous first initial push into Parliment City. The remnants, mostly shattered men and women, were at least half mad having witnessed the intensity of high yield shells up-close.

Headquarters had decided that the 323rd would be an ideal unit to go and scout out the remains of the Killing Fields Facility and the town of Bres itself while Parliament City was secured. Units were being sent to all of the nearby regions on the outskirts of the capital. No one really believed that out of all the possible places that the enemy might be found that it would be that damned place. Why would we? The city had been shelled into ruins early in the push to take back the capital.

We approached the city of Bres from the south along the old Processional Road. The 323rd moved as silently as one might suspect. Each of our soldiers was armed with some form of the HeCoB, and many of them carried them locked in the primed position. Only the Heavy Weapons specialists, the unit commander Warrant Officer Jenika Rees, and myself were armed with standard weapon loadout.

Ah, from the look you are all giving me I assume that you are unfamiliar with the HeCoB. It’s short for the Herne Compress Bow, the traditional weapon of the Imperial Guard Regiments from Herne. It’s a modernized version of a crossbow that uses gravimetric force rather than a cable to launch a metallic bolt that can penetrate Carapace Armour depending on the setting. They make little to no sound when fired making them excellent stealth and hunting weapons. Unfortunately, they have a reduced rate of fire and magazine compared to your standard lasgun. Most of the unit carried a backup laspistol along with a close combat weapon to compensate.

Warrant Officer Rees was no green recruit, and as we approached the city under her direction, the unit took care to check for traps, tripwires, mines, and other standard urban combat tricks. They moved cautiously through the rubble-strewn streets, habs, and businesses on our way to the center of Bres. The atmosphere was tense within the unit, every shadow drew the eye and every bit of unstable rubble that tumbled caused men to whip around and point their weapons in the direction of the sound.

Everywhere the stench of old death and rot travelled on the air. The corpses of civilian and Shriven alike lay where they fell; remarkably free from the gnawing and ravaging of scavengers. It seemed as if every soul who had survived the shelling if there were indeed any, had fled the city after the Guard had rolled through Bres. We arrived at the central Cathedral of Bres without a single shot fired in anger. Like the rest of the city, it too lay in ruins though not entirely from the shelling. The marks of mauls, industrial meltas **1** , and chain-tools, marred the surfaces of the Emperor’s statues and those of his Saints in apparent defilement.

“Commissar,” Warrant Officer Rees said, coming up to me as I watched the men and women of the 323rd moving to secure the ruins of the Cathedral.

I nodded to her in acknowledgement, though in truth I was observing my charges in light of the desecration. “Yes Officer Rees, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to continue sweeping the city and push onto the Killing Fields facility as soon as possible.”

“You are concerned for the Unit’s moral well-being?” I asked, noting that Trooper Hennisen cast furtive glances repeatedly at the partially burned heretical symbols on the ruined wall.

I could see her nod slightly out of the corner of my eye. “I do Commissar. In light of their experiences, I would rather not tempt fate. We will do a thorough job of clearing this place before we move on, but I would rather not tarry in these ruins.”

“That may be best,” I responded. I raised my voice. “Trooper Hennisen,” He turned and looked at me, his face draining in colour. “Is there something interesting that you would like to share with me?”

“Nnnnno! Commissar!” He stammered. “Nnnnothing!”

“Then carry on man.”

“Yes, Commissar!” Trooper Hennisen moved away from the symbols on the wall towards the confessionary against the far wall.

“Would that we had a flamer **2** ,” I said to the Warrant Officer. “Better to purify the Cathedral in flame then leave these blasphemous markings upon the walls.”

She grunted non-committedly. “It would have been better if our forces had done so before leaving. Now, lighting the Cathedral aflame would only warn any hostiles within Bres or the Killing Fields of our presence.”

The sound of loud retching from over by the confessional interrupted our conversation. Rees and I drew our weapons and quickly proceeded to where Trooper Hennisen stood bent over at the waist, noisily throwing up what little he had in his stomach in between sobbing breaths.

“Hennisen! Look at me!” I barked, causing Warrant Officer Rees to start slightly.

The trooper wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up with red-rimmed eyes. He was obviously shaken, but the fog of madness was absent from his eyes. “They’re monsters!” He said. “The Shriven are monsters and should burn!” Hennisen continued angrily.

“That they are Trooper and many have burned in the fire’s of the Emperor’s vengeance and many more yet shall,” I responded while Rees moved past Hennisen and slowly opened the central door to the confessional, where the Priest would sit. The smell of old blood and decomposition wafted from the confessional.

I looked at what should have been an ornately carved box formed of plasteel, ferrocrete, or real wood for the first time. The carvings of the Emperor and his Saints had been defaced here as well, turning the sacred profane. I will not go into detail, but the symbolism of the dark gods replaced those of the Imperial Creed and the Emperor with patient, even loving, detail. Even I, a Commissar, felt the gorge rising to look upon it. Yet, my horror would be increased sevenfold when Warrant Officer Rees stood aside from the door.

“Commissar?” She said in soft-voiced horror.

Within the confessional, sitting upon velvet cushions ruined by putrefaction, was a figure dressed in the ruined robes of the Ecclesiarchy. His mouth had been sewn shut with thick thread crusted over with pus and rot. The pate of his head had been flayed, and the eightfold star of Chaos branded upon the meat and bone of his forehead. The eyes had been put out with what must have been red hot rivets which had blacked the bone of their sockets. His flesh, that which was visible had been carved with all manner of diabolical symbols. Here sat a Priest of the Imperial Faith in mockery of his role within our Faith; as if he listened to the confessions of the damned.

“They are monsters,” Trooper Hennisen whispered, renewed horror roiling in his tone.

I could not have agreed more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Meltagun: Meltaguns also called a “Fusion Gun,” “Melter,” “Metas”, or “Cooker,” is a powerful, short-ranged anti-armour weapon that produces an intense, energetic beam of heat in the tens of thousands of degrees Centigrade.  
> 2\. Flamer: also known as “Flame Guns”, are weapons that come in a wide variety of designs and patterns, but all are ideal for flushing out enemies in cover and putting groups of foes to the torch with projected flame. The two most common variants of Flamers either have a detachable fuel canister under the barrel, or a hose connecting to a backpack canister.


	3. Squad Stebast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every Command has its maverick squads.  On the eve of pushing into the Killing Fields, Commissar Tspesh joins Corporal Stebast's squad. They aren't exactly mavericks but are known to be amongst the most devout of the 323rd. After the events in Bres' Cathedral that devotion could bring the forces of the Enemy down on them.  Turns out, that's not the only thing Tspesh has to worry about either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I R late.  I've been so busy with job, second job, two stories, coursework, and life.  The stories will keep coming, please continue being patient with me. :D

Unable to give the unknown Priest a proper burial or a cremation, we sealed him within the confessionary behind a wall of rubble.  When we returned to HQ, Warrant Officer Rees or I would ensure that a reclamation detail would be sent to retrieve the body and lay him to rest properly.  In an active combat zone, we could neither take the time nor risk that the enemy was still present in Bres or the Killing Fields. Strict radio silence had been ordered to be observed unless we were in danger of being overrun and needed to warn HQ.  Only then could the 323rd activate our vox unit and radio in.  
  
The atmosphere surrounding the troopers was understandably agitated and tense.  Our quarry was once men and women like themselves. The troops had now seen the Shriven’s corruption up close as one can get and not be covered in their filth and blood.  They were angry and horrified, and all of them were looking to exact vengeance for the Priest, the people of Hefaux, as wells for their fallen.  
  
The company crept with purpose through the remaining ruined streets of Bres.  Shops, habs, and public buildings were all cleared without incident. The Shriven were absent from Bres.  As the sun began to slip below the horizon, the company scouts reached the last buildings and declared them clear.  The Killing Fields were situated approximately ten kilometres beyond Bres’ city limits. Warrant Officer Rees drew the company back within the confines of the city to set up camp for the evening.  
  
“We’ll head out at first light tomorrow.  There’s no sense in approaching the Killing Fields at night,” she said to her NCOs. “Set camp here,” she said pointing to a location on the map that indicated one of the burned out public buildings. “And ensure that proper sentinel protocols are observed.”  As her NCO’s moved off to facilitate her orders, Rees turned to me. “Commissar, I realize that you’re not under my command but would you be so good as to accompany Corporal Stebast’s Unit?”  
  
“That’s the unit that Trooper Hennisen belongs to, correct?” I asked. “You have concerns?”  
  
She nodded. “Stebast and her troopers are extremely devout.  I’m concerned that the blasphemy they witnessed in the church could enrage them beyond reason if faced with the enemy.”  
  
I gave her a long look before responding. “If you can’t control your troopers Warrant Officer that says a great deal about your worthiness to command.”  
  
To her credit, Rees didn’t even bat an eye. “That may well be, Commissar, but it is also part of my remit to request your presence where I think it may do the greatest good.”  
  
“Well said, Officer Rees,” I said with a nod. “I happen to agree with your assessment of the troopers in Stebast’s Unit.  I will ensure that their devotion is properly tempered by restraint.” I turned and made my way over to the where Corporal Stebast’s squad was supposed to be positioned.  I kept low when crossing areas that afforded less than complete protection from snipers or prying eyes. One of the drawbacks of being a Commissar is that the enemy likes to take pot shots at us when our distinct cap and uniform is seen.  I could smell the faint scent of recaff and re-heated campaign rations before I reached the squad’s position.  
  
“Commissar,” a voice above me and to the right said quietly. “Fancy you taking a stroll on a night like this?”   
  
I lowered myself into a crouch to ensure I was out of site and then looked up into the gloom above me and nestled behind the shattered remnants of the corner of the habs outer wall was Trooper Miskin, barely detectable even at this distance.  I could see that her HeCoB was configured for long range fire. “Just coming to join you in preparation for tomorrow’s action,” I responded. “See any movement?”  
  
“Not a whisper, sir.” She responded. “The Corporal is dug in with the rest of the squad back behind the burned-out set of units behind me.”  
  
“Much appreciated Trooper,” I said. “Keep sharp.”  
  
“Yes, Commissar.”  
  
I continued beyond the sniper nest that Trooper Miskin had chosen, confident that Stebast’s Squad would receive ample warning should the enemy approach from that direction.  Crossing through the burned-out remnant of the hab I found the rest of the Stebast’s unit hunkered down amongst the detritus of someone else’s life. Corporal Stebast had chosen a large apartment with a single boarded up window in which to spend the night.  
  
Trooper Hennisen who had been covering the approach to the hab unit from behind a pile of rubble rose as I approached. “Commissar,” he said by way of greeting. “The Corporal is expecting you.”  
  
I nodded, expecting as much.  Miskin would have voxed ahead to warn the unit of my approach. “Inside is she?” I asked in reply.  
  
“Yes, Sir,” he replied, distinctly uncomfortable in my presence.  
  
“Trooper Hennisen, what you saw earlier in the Cathedral and your reaction to it is the harsh reality of the Enemy.”  He nodded. “There is no shame in being disturbed and angry. In fact, I would be concerned if you hadn’t reacted in the way you did.”  I laid a hand on his shoulder. “As a loyal soldier and citizen of the Imperium, you should be angry. You should be disturbed by what you witnessed.”  
  
Trooper Hennisen finally met my gaze, the fear lessening in his eyes. “I,” he struggled for a moment. “I hate them.” He said. “The Shriven I mean.  They killed our friends, killed innocent men and women, make a mockery of the Emperor and his Priests.” Hennisen’s spoke in a quiet voice, just above a whisper. “They all deserve to burn in the fires of His wrath.”  
  
“That they do Trooper.  Hate them for they have earned it but do not be consumed by it.  Use your anger to fortify your courage and resolve but do not be ruled by it.”  Removing my hand from his shoulder, I continued. “Remember that when the moment comes that we face them.  Follow your orders and resist the impulse to let your rage overwhelm your duty to the Emperor.”  
  
Hennisen nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “Thank you, Commissar. I will.”   
  
“I have no doubt, Trooper Hennisen,” I responded. “Carry on.”  He saluted and then returned to his position as I continued into the hab unit.  Just inside the door, Troopers Cavin and Drovus were hunkered down performing guard duty.  Cavin was watching the entrance and nodded to me as I entered.  
  
“Commissar,” He said by way of greeting while saluting.    
  
I returned the salute and then looked to the one partially boarded up window where Trooper Drovus was looking out to the ruined streets. “Anything interesting out there Drovus?”  
  
“No.  Nothing, Commissar,” he responded a quizzical note in his tone. “Not so much as a rodent, stray, or bird.  It’s like the land Bres is built upon is dead.”  
  
Corporal Stebast chose that moment to step out of one of the backrooms. “Evening Commissar.” She said, saluting.   
  
“Corporal,” I said nodding in return. “Where are Troopers Simeon, Edmunds, Bashaw, and Private Cohaen?” Simeon and Edmunds were the squad’s heavy weapons troopers.  Simeon carried a Meltagun while Edmunds, who also doubled as the squad’s Demolitions expert, using an underslung grenade launcher. Trooper Bashaw had been a veterinarian on Herne Secundus and so had been pressed into service as the squad’s “medic.”  
  
I can see the question forming already Lord Commissar Amadeu.  If you’ll recall, the 323rd was created from the remnants of two Regiments of Herne Irregulars.  The surviving Guardsmen were divided up as evenly as possible into squads. Squad Stebast simply had more firepower at their disposal than a standard Squad does.  It’s one of the reasons that they were off covering one of the approaches on their own.  
  
“They’re catching six while they can,” she responded.  I had come to understand that catching six meant that they were attempting to sleep or otherwise rest for the next six hours.  If nothing occurred in that time, the remainder of the squad would in turn ‘Catch Six.’ “Miskin mentioned that you were joining us for tomorrow’s action into the Killing Fields?”  
  
I raised an eyebrow in response. “Does that present an issue for you Corporal Stebast?”  
  
“Not at all Commissar.” She responded matter-of-factly. “Can I ask to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?”  
  
“I’ll be blunt Corporal.  The members of your squad are the most devout in the Company.  There is a concern that you may need a reminder that your enthusiasm for the persecution of the Shriven must be tempered by adherence to the orders of your Commander.” Drovus and Cavin shared a quick look but wisely kept their mouths shut.  
  
Stebast had kept her face neutral as I spoke. “Understood Commissar.  Permission to speak freely?”  
  
I am not one of those Commissars who believe that the Guardsmen under my care are required to merely obey.  It is better to address wrong attitudes before they become an issue in the field. “Granted Corporal, but be mindful of whom you are addressing.”  
  
“Yes, Commissar,” She said. “I understand the concern.  Each of us is inflamed with righteous anger by these atrocities but do we really merit two Commissars?”  
  
“What do you mean, two Commissars?”  It was then that the erstwhile Cadet Heddock walked through one of the doorways at the back of the hab unit.  Cadet Commissar Heddock was young, as we all once were. His cadet’s uniform was clean and sharply pressed despite the environment in which we found ourselves.   
  
“Commissar Tspesh.” He said saluting, “Cadet Heddock Sir. I’ve been seconded to you by order of the Nephi Commissariat.”  
  
“Cadet, we’ll speak in a moment,” I said acknowledging him before turning back to the Corporal. “I was unaware that a Cadet had been issued to me, Corporal.” I glanced back at Cadet Heddock. “Cadet Heddock, enlighten the Corporal to the nature of your orders.”  
  
“Sir,” The cadet turned and looked directed his comments to Corporal Stebast. I should note that other than a slight twitch of her mouth, the Corporal’s stoic look never changed. “It is the opinion of the Nelphi Commissariat that those cadets deemed outstanding shall be mentored directly by a decorated Commissar or Lord Commissar in the field rather than a part of a unit of Cadets under the direct command of a Senior Commissar or Regimental Commander.  To that end, I have been placed under Commissar Tspesh’s command directly.”  
  
“Very good, Cadet Heddock,” I said. “For all intents and purposes, Corporal, the cadet has a rank similar to Private but operates with my authority if necessary.”  
  
“So he can give orders to my Troopers?” She asked, raising one eyebrow. “And summarily execute them if they are found wanting?”  
  
I glanced back at Heddock. “In the absence of the Commissar, if it is deemed warranted I can execute any member of your unit including yourself and Private Cohaen.  However, my actions will be reviewed by Commissar Tspesh or another ranking Commissar.”  
  
Corporal Stebast’s face became stony. “Keep in mind Corporal, that Cadet Heddock here has spent the last ten to twelve years training at the Schola Progenium **1**  and would have been identified at a young age as fitting for the Commissariat’s needs.”  
  
“Understood Commissar,” She replied. “I took the liberty of restricting the room that Cadet Heddock exited for your exclusive use.”  
  
“Very good Corporal.  If there is nothing else, I’d like to take this opportunity to discuss things with the Cadet here.”  
  
“Of course, Commissar.” She replied. “Unless things change we will be moving out an hour before dawn.”  
  
“Thank you Corporal Stebast,” I said and motioned towards the door. “Come, Cadet, let’s have that conversation.”  I followed Cadet Heddock into the other room and closed the door. “Now Cadet, please explain to me why you are here.”   

  
  
***********************************

  
  
Inquisitor Van Staal cleared her throat. “As I’m sure it was an interesting conversation Commissar Tspesh, but do we really need to hear about it in detail?”  
  
I shook my head. “No Inquisitor,” I replied. “I’ll sum it up for you.”  
  
“That would be appreciated.”  
  
“The Cadet was in fact sent by the Nephi Commissariat, but the transport had developed issues on re-entry, and Cadet Heddock had been forced to spend a week at the Field HQ’s Medicae facilities,” I said, looking at the Lord Commissars. “Upon arrival at Bres, he had impressed upon Warrant Officer Rees that in my absence he would be required to act in my stead.  She felt it was necessary to have him escorted as soon as possible to where Squad Stebast was stationed that evening. She had pressed the small two-man recon craft he arrived in into delivering him.”  
  
“Ah! The enthusiasm of youth!” Lord Commissar Gargona said with a chuckle.  
  
“Yes, Sir.”  I smiled for a moment. “I had intended to speak to Warrant Officer Rees on my return after the push into the Killing Fields but, as you all know, that would not come to pass.”

  
***********************************

  
We woke two hours before dawn and prepared for the day.  The steel grey of the morning before the sun rises was sheathed in a thick fog that emanated outwards from the Killing Fields. The entire unit was hunkered down in the remnants of the burned-out section of the hab block as Corporal Stebast had given out her orders.  We would proceed carefully towards the Killing Fields Facility and verify either the presence or absence of the Enemy. If engaged we were to break vox silence and call for support.  
  
“That fog is going to make this all the more dangerous so watch yer’selves.” Private Cohaen said. “We’ve all dealt with the dangers of fogs of Cernus.  This will be no different.”  
  
“Except that the things that want to kill us in this fog won’t want to eat us.” Trooper Simeon grumbled.  There had been no recaff this morning.  
  
Trooper Misken smiled briefly before pulling on her fabric half mask, covering her mouth and nose. “At least, we hope not eh boys?” she joked, her voice slightly muffled.  
  
“Well, I won’t want ta be eaten’ any of them.” Trooper Edmunds said, he voice also slightly muffled by his own mask.  Cadet Heddock frowned at the display of gallows humour but said nothing as I let it pass.   
  
The Corporal chuckled along with the rest of her squad. “Alright m’lads and lasses. We go in, quiet as can be.  We search the structures and grounds to confirm that those Shriven bastards have fled like all Emperor fearing cowards do.”  She glanced at me. “If we run afoul of them, you are not to engage. Period. The Commissar and his Cadet here will put a bolt in your brain pan of anyone who does.”  
  
“What about if we’re engaged by the Shriven, Commissar?” Trooper Bashaw asked looking at me. “Am I going to have to patch up troopers who aren’t able to defend themselves?”  
  
Sweet Emperor they were a bloodthirsty lot. “No Trooper.  If we are engaged by the Shriven and are under fire, we are to respond accordingly.  I warn you though when the dust settles, if we survive, I won’t look too kindly on any who only claims they were fired on first.”  
  
“You heard the Commissar,”  Corporal Stebast said. “We can’t pick the fights, but we can damn sure finish them.”  She looked around at each of us. “Let’s move out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Schola Progenium: Responsible for the upbringing and training of orphans, predominantly those of officers and nobles who have died in the service of the Imperium.


	4. Gatehouse Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commissar Tspesh, along with Cadet Commisar Heddock, accompanies Squad Stebast along Processional Highway Five to the first objective; Gatehouse Five. What waits for them beyond the fog-shrouded edifice? The mouldering bones of grox left to die in their pens? Civilians who fled from Bres to escape the shelling of their city? Or perhaps the forces of Animo gathering for a renewed offensive? Only the Emperor knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is soon upon us!  I have birthdays (including my own) and family stuff galore.  Chapters will still continue but at a reduced pace over the next little bit!  Thanks and much love to my readers!

The morning dawned in a thematically appropriate manner. A dense fog had risen from the blood-soaked ground of the Killing Fields to encroach on the city limits of Bres. Trooper Misken had awoken early to scout the surrounding area and had found nothing. There was no sign of either the Shriven or of any civilians in the vicinity of our camp.

“It’s as empty as Animo’s soul,” she said nursing a warm cup of recaff that Private Cohaen had handed her upon her return. “At least as far as the city’s edge.”

Corporal Stebast and I shared a glance. “Good work Misken,” she said. “Orders remain unchanged. We are to proceed on foot into the Killing Fields and perform recon. We aren’t there to get into a firefight so keep a reign on your tempers.” She swallowed the rest of her recaff before tossing the tin cup to Trooper Hennisen. “Pack up your kits, we’re moving out in ten.”

Less than ten minutes later we were proceeding quietly through Bres along Processional Highway Five towards our first objective in the Killing Fields; Gatehouse number five. As I’m sure you are aware, Processional Highway Five is one of the massive arterial roadways into Parliament from the outer regions Hefaux Prime. As such, it is an enormous construct that could accommodate even the earth-shattering footsteps of the Titan Godmachines. Or at least it could have in better days.

Now the rockcrete lies shattered and broken, the surface pocked with craters filled with stagnant water, unexploded ordnance, and destroyed remains of friend and foe alike. Burned out remains of vehicles, both civilian and military dotted the highway. The smoke from these burned out shells had long since faded away. Occasionally the ruined remains of the occupants could be seen through holes melted through armourplast or via blown out window casings.

Squad Stebast moved quickly and quietly through the wasteland that the highway had now become. Sections of the roadway were strewn with both anti-infantry and anti-mechanized devices. These appeared to have been laid to counter the original Imperial counter attacks. We were lucky enough that large enough sections had been disabled or detonated that we were able to find our way through with little difficulty.

It was early afternoon before we moved off Processional Highway Five via the Gatehouse Five slip road. The fog, which had begun to lift on the highway, began to thicken as we approached the Gatehouse. It was an impressive edifice of Imperial architecture built by the Governor-Elect to commemorate the three hundredth anniversary of the Killing Field facility.

Guardhouse Five stood sentinel at the terminus of the slip road. It was a two-story tall monstrosity of carved and fitted limestone. At one time, pict-recorders had been hidden within the carved statuary of the Gatehouse to watch the approach. Corporal Stebast raised her fist, and we all hunkered down behind a burned out APC just out of the reported supposed range of the pict-recorder. Trooper Cavin, the squad’s tech specialist, pulled out the mobile cogitator and hand sensor dish and aimed it at the Gatehouse. While he worked, I took the opportunity to look at the edifice itself.

All along the facade of the gatehouse, idealized carvings of the men and women of Bres were immortalized in stone. Here a giant of a man fells a grox with a sledgehammer emblazoned with the Aquila. There, a maiden of rare beauty cradles the head of a grox in her lap, it’s blood pooling beneath her. Above them, a teenaged boy carries a feed bucket and is distributing nourishment to an adolescent grox. Even the image of a young woman, shovelling grox excrement into the carriage of a waiting servitor hauler, was etched in stone. The figures inhabited the entirety of the archway surrounding the great bronze doors of the Gatehouse. The gates themselves were set with cunningly engraved panels. Upon these, a procession of grox appeared to be pass between the arches of the gatehouse. My apologies Inquisitor, I digress.

Shaking his head, Trooper Cavin started folding up the sensor dish. “No active pict or vox signals emanating from Gatehouse Five.”

“So either they are extremely well shielded or inactive for some reason,” I commented. Trooper Cavin nodded in response.

“Then we move forward,” Corporal Stebast said. “With your permission of course Commissar.” I smiled in response, a gesture she correctly took to be permission to continue. “Misken, you and Drovus take point. Slow and Easy. If you see something, two pips.”

“Two pips?” Cadet Heddock asked.

Misken approached the Cadet and looked at me. “May I show the Cadet Commissar sir?” She asked. I nodded, we’d both benefit from the lesson.

“We put our squad vox comms on a non-standard com channel. One with background noise,” she said as she adjusted his com settings to the squad level network. “That’s the one.” She said with a smile. “You hear it?”

The Cadet nodded in response. “Now when I do this,” she made a “pip” sound with her lips. "Do you hear the change?"

Heddock’s eyes widened slightly. “I see,” He said. “You cause the background noise to shift enough that you can hear it if you’re listening for it, but otherwise it would just sound like more noise.”

Trooper Misken nodded. “There are other sounds you can use, in fact, the Herne regiments can transmit entire messages with it but it only really works with the squad level vox. Something about the more robust channels makes it too difficult.”

The Cadet looked at Misken for a moment, appraisingly. “Thank you for showing me this Trooper.” He said seriously, causing Misken to blush and mumble something about it ‘being no issue’ before punching a grinning Drovus in the arm as she passed.

“Let’s go, Mac,” Trooper Misken said as she and Trooper Drovus made their way quietly down the slip road before disappearing into the fog.

I glanced at the Cadet for a moment appraisingly. To my surprise, he smiled in return before turning his attention to the squad vox. Corporal Stebast waited for a few minutes in silence until a single pip returned over the squad channel. “All clear, let's move up,” she said.

As we carefully moved towards the Gatehouse, I angled towards the Corporal. “If one is ‘all clear’ and two is ‘enemy spotted’ what does three mean?”

“Usually that we’re fragged.” She responded as we reached the scout’s position.. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“No. I would just rather be prepared,” I responded, looking at the main gate of the Gatehouse.

“There is a man door built into the main gate, and it appears to be partially opened,” Trooper Drovus said. “Misken suggests we wait here while she checks it out.”

I looked around. “Wait, where is Misken?”

A slight sigh escaped Private Cohaen’s lips. “Checking it out, sir.”

“Without orders?” Cadet Heddock asked.  
  
Before either Corporal Stebast or Private Cohaen had the opportunity to reply, a single pip came over the vox. Shaking her head, Stebast moved out of cover and towards the man door as the rest of the squad followed covering one another. When we had all made it across the open space before the Gatehouse, the Corporal waved Troopers Hennisen and Drovus through the man door.

After a few moments, Drovus whispered. “Clear. Misken has taken up a firing position in the crawlspace above us.”

The man door granted access to the interior access corridor that led into the greater Killing Fields Facility. Looking up, I could just make out the artfully concealed murder holes above. It seemed that Gatehouse Five was designed to be more than just show. It was also possible that the original architecture had been modified in preparation of the Shriven’s ascendance. The fact that the gatehouse appeared to be unguarded was concerning.  
Directly in from of me, Cadet Heddock crept alongside Private Cohaen. “You never answered my question, Private,” he said quietly enough to only be heard by myself and Cohaen. “Did Trooper Misken move out without orders?”

Cohaen kept his lasgun held to his shoulder as he continued forward, scanning for targets as we moved. “Trooper Misken functions as our Scout, Cadet Commissar,” came the reply. “We’ve come to rely on her for, even though the brass won’t recognize it.”

The Cadet said nothing in return. Under the circumstances, a bit of latitude was appropriate. Perhaps a gentle nudge from the Regimental Commissar would see Misken promoted to official Scout duty. Stranger things had been known to happen.

We reached the end of the access corridor to find Trooper Misken waiting for us. “Nothing moving out there currently Corporal,” she reported. “But the fog is thick, you can barely see the walls of the first holding pen from here, and that’s less than ten meters out.”

“We move slow and keep to cover as much as possible,” Corporal Stebast ordered in a whispered tone. “Our first target is the administrative buildings northeast of the first tier grox pens. Misken, range forward pip if you get eyes. We’ll give you a forty-five lead time. Hennisen and Drovus you have point. Keep it low.”

Misken nodded and raising the hood of her cape, she disappeared into the fog. After forty-five seconds, Troopers Hennisen and Drovus followed after her. The entire squad, myself and the Cadet included, had studied the map of the Facility provided by Head Quarters. Beyond the Gatehouse the fog was so dense that it obscured everything just beyond arms reach. We moved as cautiously and silently as we could knowing that even with Trooper Misken scouting ahead, an enemy could stumble upon us.

It took the squad thirty-five tense minutes to cross from the Gatehouse to Administrative buildings. Trooper Misken waited in the cover of a covered garage across from the main building. “No sign of hostiles outside the building. No idea if there are any inside.” She said quietly as we gathered around her.

“We’ll make our way to the south wing. There is a maintenance entrance there that should allow us access to the buildings.” Corporal Stebast said.

Cadet Heddock frowned and whispered an aside to me. “Won’t all of the entrances be guarded if there are hostiles inside?”

“It’s very possible, Cadet,” I replied. I didn’t elaborate. The Corporal would decide the squad's next course of action.

“It’s far enough from the central building that it’s less likely that it will be secured,” Corporal Stebast replied. “If it isn’t, then we have our answer.” The Cadet nodded. “Let’s move.”

The grounds surrounding the Administrative buildings were covered in local gravel that crunched softly under our boots. Here and there the gravel was broken up by decorative gardens that were showing signs of neglect. Each garden presented the opportunity for an ambush, and so Squad Stebast cleared each we came across thoroughly.

After approximately one hour, Trooper Misken raised her fist and dropped to one knee. The rest of the squad responded by doing the same, each facing different directions to watch the area around us. Corporal Stebast moved up and lowered herself to one knee beside her. The two knelt there for a minute examining the ground before them before the Corporal shifted around to face us. She raised her hands to sign her orders using a modified form of the Imperial Guard battle-sign.

Private Cohaen, who was kneeling beside me, translated. “Misken found fresh tracks, maybe two hours old,” he said continuing to watch the Corporal. “At least two distinct individuals, lightly geared, moving openly.” I nodded, and he shifted around repeating the battle-sign to the troopers too far back to see the Corporal in the fog. “We’re going to continue forward,” he whispered. “Could be Shriven but it could also be civilians.”

“Agreed,” I whispered back. “Bootprints are hardly evidence of hostile forces.”

Now that we had evidence that the Killing Fields were at least occupied by someone other than Imperial Forces, we moved quickly towards our goal of the south wing. Twice, I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. Both times nothing came of it, thank the Emperor. Yet it left me with an uneasy feeling of being watched. Cadet Heddock also seemed to be on edge, his eyes darting at shapes in the fog that resolved into trees or ornamental statuary within the gardens.

Finally, the limestone walls of the south wing loomed out of the fog. Trooper Misken once again ranged ahead of us, searching for the maintenance entrance. As we made our way along the wall, three ‘pips’ sounded in my ears. The entire squad lowered themselves to one knee, leaning against the wall suddenly hyper-alert. I leaned over to whisper quietly in Private Cohaen’s ear. “Three pips?”

He gave a brief nod and looked over his shoulder towards me. “It means we’re frakked,” he responded.

“Frakked? How Private?” I asked, catching the Cadet looking at me from the corner of my eye.

“I don’t know yet, we’ll wait until Misken returns and then figure out the next move.”

We waited in the fog, hunkered down along the wall of the South wing of Administration building in the Killing Fields for nearly ten minutes. When Misken returned, her face was pinched and pale with anger. I motioned for the Cadet to stay where he was and followed Private Cohaen up to where Trooper Misken was speaking quietly with the Corporal. They stopped and looked at me as I approached. Misken still appeared angry, Corporal Stebast concerned.

“We don’t know if the Shriven are still here, but Misken thinks that it’s likely.” She reported glancing at her.

“It seems that the grounds behind the South Wing have been hollowed out,” Misken reported quietly. “There appear to be pipes sunk into the earth. They aren't listed on the plans provided by HQ.”

I rubbed at my chin, noting the first signs of stubble growing there. “Signs of a bunker perhaps or of some kind of newly built underground storage facility?”

The Corporal nodded. “That’s not all, Commissar.” She said an unreadable look on her face. “Go ahead Misken.”

“Yes, Corporal. Commissar Tspesh, I think I know who Animo is.” Misken reported. She opened her mouth say more only to be eternally silenced as a sniper’s round splattered her brains all over my uniform.


	5. Shriven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming under fire from the Shriven, Trooper Misken is dead. In the moments before her demise, she announced that she thought she knew the identity of Animo! Commissar Tspesh and the surviving members of Squad Stebast are forced to engage in a fighting retreat as the Shriven boil out of the bunker. Will any of them survive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back lovelies!

“Wait a moment Tspesh,” Lord Commissar Amadeu said, holding up her cybernetic hand as she called for a pause. “Trooper Misken believed she had identified Animo?” All eyes in the room turned to me.

I shrugged, the chains around my torso rattling slightly. “That’s what Misken said just before her life was ended by an enemy sniper’s round,” I responded. “If she had lived just a few seconds longer then we may have been able to cut the head off the snake."

A pained look briefly passed over the faces of the three Lord Commissars at the lost opportunity. “Trooper Misken, was she recovered?” Inquisitor Van Staal asked from her seat.

“I wouldn’t be hopeful too in regards to that,” Lord Commissar Severit said.

“Why is that Lord Commissar?” She asked. The Inquisitor shifted her piercing gaze to the Lord Commissar’s face.

“Routinely, the bodies of the Imperial Guard present the forces of the Enemy with numerous opportunities for mischief,” He replied. “If she were a notable member of the Guard, additional efforts for recovery are taken. If she were a member of some Noble Family from another world, the same would apply. Because she is not, she would either be left on the field until she could be safely recovered or as part of a reclamation campaign. However, once the body is identified, we dispose of it.”

“Usually in an incinerator,” I added, unsuccessfully keeping the bitter tone from my voice. Both of the former Gaurd accompanying the Inquisitor nodded.

“Why do you ask, Inquisitor Van Staal?” Lord Commissar Gargona asked, shifting his bulk in his seat to lean forward.

“Come now Lord Commissar Gargona, you know as well as I that the Inquisition posses resources not found elsewhere.” She replied evasively.

Lord Commissar Amadeu shook her head. “That as may be but unless the Inquisition can wring answers from the dust and bones of hundreds…” she left the comment hanging. “Command ordered the cremation of the dead to begin yesterday. The crematoriums burned throughout the night and were extinguished before the noonday sun reached its zenith.”

The Inquisitor sighed. “Then I’m afraid the opportunity is well and truly lost.”

“Not entirely,” I said with a smile. Once again, all eyes turned to me. “At the time I didn’t know how things were going to turn out. When she died, Trooper Misken’s ID Tags fell from her body along with another device. I grabbed both and threw them into an empty ammo pouch on my belt.”

“Meaning what?” Inquisitor Van Staal asked. Severit began whispering quietly to one of his aides.

"Because she couldn't be identified without a head or ID tags," Lord Commissar Amadeu replied. "She wouldn't have been cremated on the off-chance she was someone of note."

The man Severit had been speaking with nodded then hastily departed the room. “What is going on Lord Commissar Severit?” Inquisitor Van Staal asked.

“I just dispatched my aide to check if there were any headless female bodies still in the field morgue that came in wearing the uniform of the 323rd Irregulars.”

The Inquisitor turned and looked at her female companion. “Go, secure the remains if they are available and then contact the Reumate and have them begin preparations.”

“Aye Inquisitor,” Private Khemp said, jumping up and racing out the door after the Lord Commissar’s aide.

Lord Commissar Severit watched her leave. “My aide is more than capable of handling the situation, Inquisitor Van Staal.”

Though the Inquisitor smiled in response, it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Please continue, Commissar Tspesh.” She said, redirecting her attention back to me.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Lord Commissars Gargona and Amadeu leaned back in the chairs. “As I mentioned, I grabbed Trooper Misken’s ID Tags and another device that had fallen from her personage and stuffing them into an empty ammo pouch, I joined the remainder of Stebast Squad undercover.

*****************************************

“Those frakkers!” Corporal Stebast was snarling as I dove into cover beside her. “Misken! frakking Misken!” Yelling could be heard coming from the direction Misken had indicated was where the new bunker was. After a moment, las blasts started to rain down on our position from multiple locations.

“This isn’t good!” Trooper Drovus yelled as the weight of fire increased.

“You don’t say!” Private Cohaen yelled back, snapping a shot off around the ornamental boulder he crouched behind, effectively firing blind.

Trooper Cavin coughed as a las-bolt vaporized the head of the statuary he was hiding behind. “That was a hotshot!” He yelled, grabbing the portable vox-handset. “Permission to call for assistance?”

Stebast shot him a withering glance. “Do it!” She yelled.

As Trooper Cavin attempted the contact HQ or Warrant Officer Rees, the rest of Squad Stebast, Cadet Heddock, and I re-positioned behind cover to support one another as well as watch our rear to limit the possibility of surprise.

The Shriven began to boil out of the bunker towards us. As the soldiers moved confidently through the limited cover, the squad opened fire. HeCoB bolts and las-blasts lanced between the opposing forces. The Shriven outnumbered us at least three to one. Squad Stebast gave a proper accounting of themselves. More Shriven began to re-enforce their line. We were in danger to become overwhelmed at our current position.

As the weight and calibre of fire increased, Corporal Stebast made the only decision she could. “Prepare to fall back. Fireteam Two goes; first, Fireteam One covers and then follows!” She yelled over the crack of the las and the crump of heavier weapon fire that was just beginning to be added. “Simeon, Edmunds, on my signal give ‘em a taste of pain then prepare to move with your Fireteams!” She looked the Cadet and I. “Commissar, Cadet, you’re with me.”

We both nodded. “Ready when you are Corporal,” I said as we prepared to cover Fireteam two’s retreat.

“Go!” She yelled.

Simeon and Edmunds stood and launched both grenades and a stream of intense heat from their respective weapons. As everyone knows that Melta weaponry is only really effective at close range, Simeon targeted enemy cover just within range of his gun. Rocks and brick exploded or vaporized under the white-hot beam of energy that streamed from Simeon’s Melta. Edmunds’ grenade launcher lobbed high-yield explosive beyond the destruction caused by Simeon’s weapon, the detonations resulting in tooth-rattling explosions and screams from wounded Shriven.

Fireteam Two broke off as soon as Simeon had stopped firing retreating to the next defensible position as the rest of us explosive, las, and, HeCoB bolt into the teeth of the enemy. When she was satisfied that Fireteam Two had made to the questionable safety of the next fallback position, we abandoned our position and fell back. As we retreated, Trooper Drovus’ crumpled as multiple hotshot las rounds hit him in the upper back. I made a B-line to the downed trooper and, upon reaching him, lifted him onto my shoulders and continued to drive towards safety.

As we rounded the corner of a building into the relative safety of an ornamental garden, Cadet Heddock helped me lower Trooper Drovus to the ground as Trooper Bashaw, the Squad’s medic, ran over to us. I waved him off shaking my head, Drovus was already dead. Corporal Stebast looked at her vox operator. “Well?”

Trooper Cavin, who had been on the vox while we ran was out of breath. “Rees has been apprised, as has HQ. Re-enforcement from the 323rd is coming but will take about fifteen minutes to get here in force. We should have Squad Quell inbound in five,” he answered before hesitating.

“Any additional orders?” the Corporal asked, her face was stony having lost two Troopers already. The rest of the squad looked at Trooper Cavin from their positions.

“HQ ordered that we hold until re-enforced. If the opportunity presents itself to take the bunker position take it. Further losses are acceptable.” He said ducking as a las round that streaked in from the approaching Shriven. I rose, fired three bolt-pistol rounds into two Shriven soldiers and dipped back into cover as the detonated.

“Frak!” Private Cohaen drew out the expletive. “What do they expect us to do?”

“Fight, and if necessary, die like the Servants of the Emperor we are, Private,” I responded with calm confidence as I snapped off a few more shots before the magazine of the bolt-pistol clicked empty. I met the Guardsman's eyes as I reloaded my clip. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Cadet Heddock turned and blasted a Shriven soldier from a nearby rooftop that would have given him a line on some of the squad. His crumpled form fell from its position to thud heavily on the ground below. “This may be the opportunity we need to end this!" he roared.

"Regardless of our origin, we are the Imperial Guard!" I continued. "We stand when others run. We rise and fight when others would lie down and surrender. You have been forged in the hottest of fires! Does not blood of your brethren call out for vengeance? Shall we not reap a bloody accounting from the foe?”

The Troopers around me roared in response. Private Cohaen drew a deep breath in before raising his HeCoB and letting a bolt fly, striking a target and knocking the Shriven soldier from their feet. “Understood Commissar,” He grunted then grinned. “For Herne Secundus! For the 323rd! For the Emperor!” He cried out, as he put another bolt through an enemy soldier.

Any soldier will tell you that the time that passes waiting for re-enforcement feels as if it drags on for eternity. With nowhere else to run, Squad Stebast held their ground. Trooper Simeon was the first to die. He rose to fire his melta at a group of Shriven charging our position, vaporizing them just before they reached us. In retaliation, the Shriven filled his torso with las-blasts. His melta, still smoking from the heat it had unleashed, fell from his nerveless fingers and thudded against the ground with a note of finality. We all knew that Trooper Simeon was dead before his body dropped to the ground to rest beside his weapon.

The Shriven continued to approach our position. They approached like ghosts from a fog, their faces obscured by their own torn and bloodied funeral shrouds. Each was stamped the imprint of their owner's face. The mark permanently embedded on the once white surfaces with their own blood. We’ve all heard the tales of how, once they join Animo, they remove the flesh from their own faces in an ecstatic expression of piety to their new gods. With the advantage of numbers, they would completely over-run us if our re-enforcements didn’t arrive in time.

Private Cohaen was the next to fall when three of the enemy had managed to flank the squad. Drawing his long bladed combat knife, the Private engaged all three as they clambered over the ornamental wall he had been fighting behind. He held all three off for thirty seconds, slaying one and mortally wounding another before the third drove his blade deep into his neck. As the enemy soldier withdrew the knife they twisting it to widen the wound. The Private cried out and instinctually grasped at his throat as he tried in vain to staunch the injury with his hand. Trooper Bashaw, the squad medic, move to help Cohaen, putting multiple kill shots into the enemy soldier as he ran.

His attention consumed with attempting to save Private Cohaen’s life, Trooper Bashaw did not see the frag grenade. It sailed over the wall to land in the blood-soaked dirt behind him. Trooper Edmunds, who must have seen the explosive land out of the corner of his eye, turned towards the medic and cried out a warning. The warning came too late. The frag grenade went off, showering Bashaw and Cohaen with hot fragments of razor sharp metal and fire. When the smoke and dust cleared, neither trooper was moving.

While Corporal Stebast, Cadet Heddock, and I continued to fire into the Shriven position, the remaining members of squad Stebast remained hidden behind cover. Without the rest of the squad’s support, the three of us would quickly be brought down under the massive weight of fire that could be brought to bear. Dropping down behind cover again, I looked over at Trooper Cavin and Hennisen’s position. Both were cowering and flinching as energy bolts, solid rounds and bolt shells thudded into the boulders they were using for cover. Trooper Edmunds sat, his back against the cracked and damaged statuary he was using for protection, his gaze focused on the fallen forms of the medic and Private.

I rose from behind cover and roared in defiance of the enemy. “Stand and fight warriors of the Herne Secundus!” I emptied my bolt pistol’s magazine into the enemy and stood, in plain sight, slamming a fresh magazine home. “If we are to die here in service to the Emperor, let us go to him with our wounds to the fore!” The cadet and Corporal Stebast rose and renewed their firing on the Shriven advance. Trooper Edmunds stared for a moment longer before rolling to his feet to lob grenade after grenade into the enemy line. Troopers Cavina and Hennisen likewise rose and, screaming, sent shiny silver bolts of death into the Shriven soldiers advancing on us.

It was wanton, it was lunacy, it was courage, and it was fury. Every one of us screamed and roared in defiance of our fate. We emptied our magazines and our hate through clouds of cordite and into the heretics massing before us. For a minute, our ferocity and unrestrained firepower rocked the Shriven line backwards. Then the first hammer clicked dry. With each ranged weapon that was dropped spent or placed in holstered, a melee weapon was drawn. The Shriven, realizing that our ability to hurt them at range was spent, renewed their advance. They fired as they approached and the air echoed with the roar of their weapons.

Trooper Hennisen fell, his chest turned to a mass of charred meat from the pushing hail of las-bolts that struck him. Next, the Shriven turned their own fury on Edmunds whose rain of fragmentation grenades had reaped a bloody tally against them, disappeared in a cloud of fire and earth as a grenade exploded at his feet. Trooper Cavin was knocked from his feet by a solid projectile that punched a hole through his forehead.

One by one, Squad Stebast had fallen. One by one, they had stood and died for a world that was not even theirs. Now, standing alone, tears of rage and fury on her face Corporal Annika Stebast listened as Trooper Cavin’s vox rang out. “Squad Stebast, come in Squad Stebast, re-enforcements engaging the enemy north of your position. Expect relief soon. Squad Stebast, do you copy?”

Our eyes met for a moment, and then the entire world caught on fire.

  
********************************************************

  
Consciousness returned to me with the echoing sound of boots crunching on gravel. Opening my eyes I could see two well-polished if blurry, black boots approaching me. They stopped two or so feet away from my head. I strained to look up, first beyond the patchwork leather cloak sewn from flayed human faces, each of which bore the stain of ecstatic corruption. Past the tooled leather weapon belt upon which sat holstered an ornate bolt pistol that oozed glowing etheric pus and upon which the hilt of an angry, bloodthirsty chainsword that muttered and rumbled in discontent. Past the nondescript black military cut uniform until my eyes rested upon the bronzed death mask visage heavy with the patina of corruption.

Animo, Master of the Shriven, Lieutenant of the Heretical Ecclesiarch Faceen, and devotee of the ruinous powers stood before me looking down. “Commissar,” he greeted me, his voice hollow but cordial behind the mask. “You seem the worse for wear but not as poorly as your surviving companions.” He commented, turning to look at the still forms of Cadet Heddock and Corporal Stebast. Corporal Stebast appeared to have attempted to shield the cadet from the thunderous shock and shrapnel of the explosion.

“They died loyal to their Emperor in defence of His Imperium. Their duty to Him ended in honour and courage,” I said, the ringing in my ears and the throbbing of my wounds robbing my voice of the hard edge of the rage I felt.

As I watched, two of Animo’s personal guard, known as the Hallowed, lifted the Corporal’s ragged corpse off of the cadet. Similarly to their master, the Hallowed wear death masks and cloaks over standard black uniforms. Where his mask was made of oxidized bronze; theirs were made of rusted iron. Their own hooded cloaks were made of the bloody death shrouds of fallen Shriven, the bloodstained faces forming obscene patterns on the cloth.

The young man moaned and struggled to open his eyes. As I watched, one of the Shriven’s “medics,” a figure wearing an odd assortment of medical apparatus on various harnesses approached him. Opening various tubes and corroded storage containers on its chest it began to apply a strange glowing fungus and odd looking flesh-like wrappings to his wounds. As he realized what was going on, Heddock tried to fight off the Shriven. Others came to help hold down the cadet. He screamed as the fungus began to take hold in his flesh, burrowing beneath his skin. I tried to struggle to my feet to get to my young charge, but Animo planted a solid kick in my side, knocking the wind from my lungs. “It’s already too late for you to do anything, Commissar,” He crooned as I watched the cadet’s struggling cease.

I watched as the fear and pain slowly drained from the cadet’s eyes. He rose, his wounds now covered with pockmarked unhealthy looking flesh that looked raw but no longer life-threatening. “Lord, please forgive me. I have been blind. The mewling rhetoric of the servants of the False-Emperor had brainwashed me.”

“No…” I said, pausing as I realized that I did not remember Cadet Heddock’s first name. “You’re a Cadet of the Commissariat! Sworn into the Emperor’s service! Chosen for your loyalty. Your strength of will. Your devotion to the Emperor!”

Cadet Heddock looked at me with blank eyes. “Fear not, Ethaniel Heddock,” Animo intoned in a rich, sonorous voice. “Through the blessed Ecclesiarch Malidox Faceen, who serves the true gods of Mankind, forgiveness can be earned.” He laid a hand upon the young Cadet’s head and whispered words in some foul demonic tongue. The air became warm and fetid, and the faces on Animo’s cloak began to whisper with him.

I tried in vain to rise, tried in vain to reach the Cadet, to do something to prevent the perversion happening before my eyes. I struggled to my feet and stumbled towards the kneeling cadet. Just before I reached them, I was grabbed from behind by the Hallowed and forced to my knees. I took some satisfaction from the fact it took three of them.

“Resist Cadet!” I yelled, even though I could see that he was already lost.

Animo let his hand drop. “Rise, Shriven. Stand before me.” Heddock rose to his feet and stood before the heretical leader. Animo laid his hand on his shoulder. “I have such wondrous plans for you, my boy. Wonderous plans.” He then turned his gaze to me.

“You, my dear Commissar, shall also have a part to play.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Time for a nap Feodor, when you wake this will all have been just a bad dream.” I snarled at the familiarity in his tone.

As I struggled against the Hallowed holding me down, a Shriven soldier rolled the corpse of Corporal Stebast over, and another Shriven medic approached and knelt before it. I was unable to see what was happening directly, but as I watched, the soldier removed its shroud, revealing a face denuded of flesh.

Animo followed my gaze. “Ah yes, the rest of the 323rd is slowly breaking through my lines to reach you. When they arrive, they’ll find a few more survivors of the fighting here about to be finished off by my forces.” The Shriven medic rose from Corporal Stebast’s corpse, a red mass of flesh held between its hands and held it out to the soldier that had removed her shroud. Taking it gently, she raised it to her face. I watched in horror as tendrils of flesh reached out from the Shriven soldier’s face towards the red mass in her hands.

Cadet Heddock stepped in front of me and crouched down blocking my view of what was happening with the Shriven soldier. “Do you yearn for forgiveness Commissar?” he asked, his breath smelling faintly of raw mushrooms. “Ask, the Master can give it to you.”

I looked up at Animo and then back to the cadet. “The only forgiveness I yearn for, Cadet, is for the Emperor. His forgiveness is all I'll ever yearn for.” I responded through clenched teeth.

“Leave him Ethaniel,” Animo responded. “The survivors are prepared, and the 323rd approaches.” The cadet nodded and then stood.

I looked up to see the faces of Corporal Stebast and Troopers Cavin, Bashaw, Hennisen, and Drovus looking down at me. The faces moved and shifted as they appeared to set on skulls not their own. I watched in horror as tiny fleshy tentacles eased out of rapidly healing seams around the stolen faces to ease them into position. “No,” I whispered.

“And now he sees,” Animo said. “Put him to sleep.”

I felt a cold sting at the back of my neck. My mouth suddenly tasted of mould and honey and then knew no more.

 


	6. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feodor's tale is coming to an end.
> 
> A serpent lies waiting within the 323rd as well as in the hierarchy of command but who is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies to all who have been reading my fic. I literally have been attempting to work every day on this Chapter as well as the content for the next Chapter of Storm Talons. Work has been insanely busy for far longer than I had thought it would be. I was exhausted and drained before I injured my leg...
> 
> Ugh.. enough of that. We're coming to the end of this story...

I don't know what I was expecting but all things considered, the Tribunal took it pretty well.  The room was silent but for the clinking of the chains binding me. The dust motes falling in the weak sunlight as it shone through the Aquila shaped stain-glass window was almost audible.  The Lord Commissar Gargona was the first to react, the wooden chair creaking as he leaned back. His face was turning a shade of red so deep that one could have easily mistaken it for an overly sizeable pomegrant fruit. After a moment, he let out an explosive breath and looked at his fellow Tribunal members.

"These are serious accusations," He said, clearly trying to control his temper. "Tell me, has Commissar Tspesh's mental state been investigated?"

Lord Commissar Amandeu nodded gravely. "He is fit to stand trial according to the certifications issued by the Officio Medicae."

The next part surprised me. "Then Tspesh is either telling the truth or lying to try and delay the inevitable," Gargona said.

"Come now, Tebor," Lord Commissar Severite sighed. "First you wanted to shoot Tspesh, now you suggest that we should take this fantastical story seriously?  Personally, this all smacks of trying to save one's own skin."

"What are you implying Elias?" The Shield of Carafax Hive growled.

The Lord Commissar likewise leaned back in his chair and after a moment, made a dismissive gesture. "I imply nothing." He replied shortly. "The 323rd is part of the section of the Imperial Guard that falls under your jurisdiction during this war, Lord Commissar. Ultimately, Commissar Tspesh's failure reflects on you."

"Is this true, Lord Commissar Gargona?" Inquisitor Van Staal asked the red-faced Gargona.  I risked a quick glance in the Inquisitor's direction. She sat there, a look of mild annoyance on her face.

"It is Inquisitor," Tebor Gargona replied stonily. "At least as far as the ultimate responsibility for Tspesh's actions are concerned.  However, I am not attempting to save my own skin by questioning his sanity. We have all seen things that beggar belief. Mutants, men and women who have fallen under the sway of the warp, heretical Xenos technologies, but Tspesh's story pushes the boundaries of belief." He leaned forward and steepled his fingers glaring at me. "If what Tspesh says is true, our forces may be rife with insurgents.  Every soldier that has gone unaccounted for and re-emerges, everyone that has been found wounded, is now suspect. This has been a long and hard-fought campaign, and those who fit that description are many."

Van Staal nodded once. "Agreed Lord Commissar," she said before turning her attention back to me. "Continue, Tspesh. Let's bring your tale to its conclusion."

I nodded. "When I awoke I was surrounded by the men and women of the 323rd."

************************************

"You look like hell, Tspesh," Warrant Officer Rees said as she approached with two cups of recaff on her hands.

My head was pounding.  I had apparently taken a wound to my scalp, and the medicae's surgical staples ached. "It was touch and go there for a while Rees. I thought I was going to be supping at the right hand of the Emperor tonight."

She gave me a brief smile. "His loss is our gain," she said handing over one of the cups of recaff. She said beside me on the shattered masonry. "I wish I could say that of the others," She sighed. "Five more names to be added to the rolls of the honoured dead."

I took a sip of the recaff and stared in the direction of the bloody corpse shrouds that covered the bodies of the fallen. At the time, I had no memory of my interaction with Amino, the conversion of the Cadet, or of the Shriven wearing the faces of the dead of Stebast Squad. Still, I was plagued by the feeling that something was wrong. "Something about this feels wrong," I said, my gaze fixed on the shrouds.

"I imagine so," Rees responded. "Stebast stirred up quite the Urhornet's nest and paid for it dearly."

"They had us dead to rights, Jenika," In the time I had been assigned to the 323rd, I had rarely used her first name. "We should all be dead.  Too many of them, not enough cover, and re-enforcements were too far out."

Rees looked at me askance. "What are you saying Feodor?"

"I'm not sure, but I think they left us alive."

"That's not exactly Animo's MO," she said. "I can't imagine why he would just leave you all lying there rather than kill you or take you captive."

I nodded and glanced over at Sargeant Stebast and the remainder of her squad.  They sat together quietly as the medicae finished patching their wounds. "I don't know either, and that bothers me." I watched as Cadet Heddock approached the group from the direction of the latrines.  After a few moments of speaking to them, the Sargeant surprised me by moving over on the ammo crate she was perched on. Even more surprisingly, the Cadet took a seat beside her.

"Nothing bonds people together like near-death experiences," Rees stated following my gaze to where the Cadet and Stebast squad were talking.

I coughed, briefly tasting concrete dust and oddly, mushrooms. "The life of a Commissar is a difficult one Reese.  For most, abandoning one's connection to other humans is the only way we can execute our responsibilities to the Emperor.  Cadet Commissar Heddock may well have to execute one of those soldiers. That will be more difficult if he becomes friends with the soldiers for whom he is responsible."

The Warrant Officer was quiet for a moment before tossing the rest of her recaff and standing up. "Well no one knows when the Emperor is going to call us home, Commissar," she said looking towards where the front line defences were being established. "We can only hope that when he does, all our wounds are to the front."

I nodded and finished off my own cup and handed it back to her. "I need to resupply.  Do you happen to know where I can find the Quartermaster?"

She pointed towards the rear of the encampment. "Back that way besides the vehicle depot.  See you out there Tspesh." She gave me a brief smile. "Sargeant Stebast!" She yelled at the woman who in response looked up and saluted. "Come with me, we need to discuss your disposition under the circumstances."

"Yes Ma'am," The Sargeant rose and walked over to where the Warrant Officer stood, nodding to me as she passed. "Commissar," together the two of them walked away towards the direction of the command tents.  

I stood and approached the Cadet sitting with the remains of the squad. "Cadet Heddock," I said as I approached.  

He stood and saluted. "Sir?"

"I require resupply. Do you need anything from the Quartermaster?"

The Cadet shook his head. "No Sir, I was resupplied while you were still unconscious."

Nodding I looked at the remnants of Stebast Squad. "My condolences for your losses but take heart, their sacrifice will not be in vain.  The heretic Animo will fall soon never to rise." They stared at me coldly in response.

The Cadet coughed slightly and gave Drovus, who was sitting beside him, a pointed look. "Of course, you're right Commissar, we look forward to it.  My apologies sir, we're all still a little numb from the loss." Drovus said, a note of reluctance in his voice.

Troopers Hennisen, Cavin, and Bashaw all nodded with the same look on their faces; flat and almost unfriendly.  Once again I was struck by the feeling that something was wrong as I looked at them. "Stay here with the Squad Cadet. I'll be back soon, and I have little doubt that we will continue to fight alongside them with their reduced numbers."

"Understood Commissar Tspesh,"  

"If something changes, I will vox Cavin with instructions."

"Very good, Commissar," Heddock responded, once again saluting.

  


I caught a ride on the back of a small buggy as it made its way towards the vehicle depot.  As I sat in the passenger's seat, I played over the events of the firefight over in my head.  Everything was clear in my mind right up until the moment that the Shriven rushed our makeshift defences.  I remembered Private Cohaen fighting for his life against three of the Shriven. I remembered the horrific sound he made as he dropped to his knees, blood spilling from his lips and the ragged hole in his throat. After that, I could remember nothing more but fire and dust.

The driver of the buggy slowed as we approached the vehicle depot before stopping in front of the Quartermaster.  After returning his salute, I proceeded into the building where Quartermaster Trevane and her staff had set up shop. Neatly stacked rows of crates and boxes lined pre-fabricated shelving behind a temporary countertop.  Behind the counter, Quartermaster Victoria Trevane watched as a servo skull moved up and down the rows of shelving scanning the digital codes printed on the side.

"Good to see you're still kicking Commissar," she said without turning around. "I heard you were with Stebast when hell rained down on them." Turning around, the Quartermaster of the 323rd smiled as her augmented eyes zoomed in and out as it scanned over my form. "Looking none the worse for wear all things considered."

"Good to see you too Quartermaster," I responded removing my high peaked hat and tucking it under my arm.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need to requisition some supplies and ammo," I said reaching into the ammo pouches on my person and handing over the few empty magazines I had still.  I reached into the final bag and pulled out a damaged pict-imager rather than a magazine. I started at it for a moment remembering the moment Misken had dropped it.

Trevane's augmetic eyes made a slight whirring noise as they zoomed in on the damaged device. "Need a reader for that as well Commissar?" She asked.

"I do, yes thank you."

After being led to a quiet storage room adjacent to the Quartermaster's operational area, one of Trevane's staff brought me a new pict-scryer fresh in the box.  Now, the damaged pict-imager sat with the data crystal visible through the casing beside the new device. I carefully removed the damaged housing on the pict-imager to expose and extract the storage device. There was a small but visible hairline crack in the faceted surface.  After gently placing the data crystal in the pict-scryer and whispering the Prayer of Machine Awakening I waited as the device struggled to read it.

Slowly images started taking shape above the pict-scryer.  There were pictures of the skyline of Parliament highlighted in the aftermath of a firefight, smoke rising from the rubble.  Picts of Stebast squad in happier casual moments, both as individuals and in groups. There was even an image of myself, one hand on Hennicker's shoulder in the aftermath of the discovery of the Priest.  

A number of the images were shattered. The component information torn by the crack in the running through the crystal. Faces were distorted and feature missing or misplaced.  Soldiers marching only in the reflections of puddles. A figure in the braiding and uniform of a Lord Commissar stepping out of an armoured personnel carrier surrounded by the bloody shrouds and rusted iron masks of the Hallowed.

***************************************************

I paused in my recollection and looked at the three Lord Commissar's sitting across from me.  I must admit, I was somewhat disappointed. I was expecting an eruption of denouncements. Calls to produce evidence or proof of my claims.  Was I was not expecting was for the three Lord Commissar's looking at one another first with narrowed eyes and then over the finely crafted barrels of their bolt pistols as they drew on one another.

In a rush of movement, every weapon in the room was primed and pointed at another living soul. "No one move." I heard the Inquisitor say in a commanding tone as the force of her will froze not only my muscles but those of every other person in the room. "I would hear the end of Commissar Tspesh's tale." She came around from behind me and looked me in the eyes. "Finish your story quickly, Feodor Tspesh."

My breath misted as I continued, the temperature in the room dropping in response to the Inquisitor's power. "I sat dumbfounded as I stared at the image before me.  The face was partially obscured by a cloak of one of the Hallowed and the damage to the crystal. But it was still a face. The face of Animo."

"You claim to know the identity of Animo?" Van Staal asked, touching a link on the chains that bound me.

"Not at first I didn't, Inquisitor.  As I mentioned, the face was almost unrecognizable.  I was sure, however, that if I could look on the visages of the Lord Commissars serving here in the sector, I could identify them." I looked at the faces of Lord Commissars Severite, Gargona, and Amadeu.

"However, I was not to have the opportunity until these proceedings."

"Why is that?"

"Because the Shriven chose that moment to renew hostilities by destroying the temporary barracks of the 323rd."

***************************************************

I had removed the crystal from the pict-scryer and slipped it into something more secure than a simple ammo pouch before exiting the Quartermaster.  I planned to requisition a vehicle from the depot and return to Command HQ. There I would be able to access the Commissariat's secure records and examine the visual records of the Lord Commissars on file.  As I mentioned, however, that was not to come to pass.

It had required my authority as a Commissar to 'convince' the Sergeant on duty to provide me with a vehicle.  It was an older model VX-11 Bike with a chain-fed stub gun mounted above the front wheel. As I rode in the direction of Gatehouse Five, I pondered on how I was going to proceed.  Assuming that Animo was one of the active Lord Commissars and not merely wearing the uniform of one, how could I possibly present evidence of guilt? I had proof of Animo's identity, fractured as it was. A Priest of Mars would be able to reassemble the image, of that I was confident.  Yet despite that, I had a nagging feeling that I would be hard pressed to find someone with the authority to call a Lord Commissar to account.

I slowed the VX-11 as Gatehouse Five came into view, now under guard by elements of the 323rd.  I was about to abandon my regiment in an active warzone. It was a fact that did not sit well with me at all.  Though Cadet Heddock's fall to the enemy was still unknown to my conscious mind, something kept me from merely entrusting the remaining elements of the 323rd to him.  No Cadet of the Schola Prefectus is seconded to an active Commissar without the confidence of a seasoned Instructor. Let alone seconding one serving in an active warzone.  We are not trained to believe our charges are disposable. On the contrary, each member of the Astra Militarum is valued!

Forged in the fires of conflict they are the chains that bind the Imperium together!  Men and Women from every region of the Imperium serve; their mettle tested and holding true despite the hammer blows of war.  Those who do not hold fast are removed to not threaten the greater whole. The weak link that must be forged anew if possible or removed altogether if necessary.  No! We do not send those unprepared to judge the fitness of the links that make up those chains! So then why my hesitation? In truth, I had resolved to trust my misgivings and to turn around. That's when the first explosion echoed over the Killing Fields from the direction of the 323rds encampment.  As the pillar of black smoke billowed up into the sky, I pushed the throttle on the VX-11 to full and roared back in the direction of the encampment.

It took nearly half an hour to trace my route back towards the main encampment. When I arrived, the men and women of the 323rd  were fully dug in and making their stand against the Shriven's onslaught. As I approached the site of the devastation I slowed.   Of the many faces of war, the one I have always found the most inspiring is that of the wounded soldier standing resolute. Bloodied but not broken.

As I drove past, the men and women carrying the body of Warrant Officer Rees stepped out of the still intact archway.  Her body was caked in rockcrete dust and partially obscured by the soldiers bearing her through the only feature of the barracks still standing unscathed.  I met the eye of more than one of them. Anger and pain creased their sweat and dust coated features, and their eyes hardened as they took in my appearance.  Knowing that there was nothing I could do and with that gnawing feeling still in my gut, I opened the throttle and sped towards the front line without looking back.

I found out later that just before the destruction of the Barracks, Reese had attempted multiple times to contact me only to discover my hasty departure from the encampment.

The Lord Commissar Amandeu was shaking her head. "No wonder they revile you now.  Not only did it seem like you had apparently run off for reasons unknown, but you also expressed no concern in the well-being of their commander."

"A fact I am keenly aware of." I shifted in my chains, attempting to ease the bite of the links.

I reached the front just as the main force of the Shriven was recoiling after breaking itself against the temporary defensive fortifications the 323rd had erected.  Bodies in the colours of both the 323rd and the Shriven lay in places along the defensive line. Exhausted men and women of the regiment's medicae corp moved amongst the dead and wounded. One of them, Medicae Gant, gently closed the eyes of one of our fallen before turning and staring coldly at a mortally wounded Shriven who reached for her.  Without a change in expression, she raised her las pistol and fired not one, not two, but three rounds into the wounded enemy before collecting her kit in preparation of moving on.

"Medicae Gant," I called out.

She turned and looked at me with the same cold expression. "Commissar."

"Where can I find our command elements at this position?"

The Medicae simply nodded further up the line. "Lieutenant Stebast and Cadet-Commissar Heddock are further north where the Shriven hit the hardest," She paused. "Sir."

  


I nodded my thanks and watched for a moment as the Medicae returned to her task. Navigating the remnants of a freshly won battlefield takes time, but before long I reached the position where Stebast Squad and the Cadet had held the line.  The number of corpses of the Shriven was piled high around the pile of shattered rockcrete. Here the tide had been turned. Bloody but victorious, Troopers Hennisen, Cavin, Drovus, and Bashaw stood in tiers around the Lieutenant and the Cadet who themselves stood at the apex.

It was a heroic scene that was marred only by the nagging sense of wrongness that I felt looking at them.  Clearly, the Guardsmen of the 323rd felt differently as they cheered the squad's heroics. The Lieutenant was the first to notice me approaching through the rubble.  She leaned over and whispered something to the Cadet who turned his head and nodded. As the two of them started down the rubble pile, the rest of the squad fell in behind them.  

Making my way through the rubble, corpses, and the now hard faced members of the 323rd I arrived at the base of the pile. "Lieutenant Stebast. Cadet Commissar Heddock.  Well done." I said, ignoring the doubt gnawing at me.

Cadet Commissar Heddock shook his head and raised his laspistol and pointed it at me; an action that was mirrored by the rest of Stebast Squad. "Commissar Feodor Tspesh, under the Authority of Lord Commissar Gargona, I find you guilty of Cowardice Before the Enemy, Dereliction of Duty, and Treason before the Throne." He frowned with regret. "Drovus, Hennisen, relieve the traitor of his weapons."

I raised my hands, allowing the troopers to disarm me who then handed my bolt pistol and chainsword to Heddock. Raising the bolt pistol towards me, the Cadet cocked the hammer. "I am a decorated Commissar who has served in this theatre and others for longer than you have been alive Cadet Heddock.  I dispute these charges and demand to be brought before the Lord Commissar himself for judgement."

"You abandoned your post and your Regiment without explanation, sir."

"That I was not present on the battlefield when the Shriven attacked is proof only of my absence on the line," I replied. "That I was unreachable by vox and away from Regimental Command is not, in and of itself sufficient for the battlefield execution of a Senior Commissar by a Cadet.  You know it, and I know it." Cadet Heddock paused, his frown deepening. In hindsight, I believe that the man that the Cadet was wrestled with Animo's Corruption and kept his finger from pulling the trigger. Perhaps I will never know. "Vox Gargona. If he tells you to shoot me, then so be it but you don't want to start your career as a Commissar with a black mark after today's heroics."

After a moment, he released the trigger. "Trooper Cavin, vox the Lord Commissar.  Tell him of Commissar Tspesh's request verbatim."

The vox-operator glanced at Lieutenant Stebast who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes sir, give me a few minutes to contact HQ."

Lieutenant Stebast looked around at the men and women of the 323rd gathered around us. "This is still a warzone people!  Stop gawking and get back to soldiering!" As the Guardsmen disbursed to the necessities of after action duties, she turned to look at Cadet Heddock. "Are you sure about this course of action?"

Without taking his eyes off of me, the Cadet nodded. "Commissar Tspesh is right. He is a decorated Senior Commissar, not some random penal conscript.  There would be some in the Commissariat who would not look kindly on a Cadet executing someone like that summarily."

"Understood,"

"Cadet Heddock," Trooper Cavin called out. "The Lord Commissar would like to speak with you.  Relaying to your secure vox channel."

Heddock nodded and placed a hand to his ear. "This is Cadet Commissar Ethaniel Heddock." He paused for a minute. "Yes sir, that is correct.  Commissar Tspesh has relinquished his weapons and is now under guard awaiting your decision." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Yes sir, understood.  Heddock out." The Cadet stood there, finger tensed over the trigger.

"So what's it going to be Cadet?" I asked. "Summary execution with my own bolt pistol or am I about to take a ride to HQ?"

After another moment he lowered the firearm. "The Lord Commissar has instructed that you are to be brought to Headquarters.  There you will be held in irons until Lord Commissar's Amandeu and Severit arrive to decide your fate."

"A Court Martial?" Lieutenant Stebast asked, a smile forming on her face.

The Cadet smiled as Troopers Hennisen and Drovus bound my hands behind my back with plasteel ties. "Yes Lieutenant," he finally looked away as the two Troopers each roughly took an arm. "We're to remain at HQ and provide testimony in regards to Commissar Tspesh's cowardice and treason."

The members of Squad Stebast all started to smile. "Oh, my," the Lieutenant said nearly purring. "We couldn't have asked for a better opportunity."

As she smiled, the skin on her face slipped slightly allowing tiny fleshy tendrils to become visible around her eyes.  I knew then what my gut had been trying to tell me even though the memory had not yet returned; the enemy wasn’t just among us.  They _were_ us.

  
  
  



	7. Animo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Commissar Tspesh nears the end of his tale, will the truth behind the identity of Animo finally be revealed? How does his story end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This tale is almost complete. The Epilogue is yet to come. I think I will write that before I work on the next chapter of Storm Talens.

I remained under guard by members of Stebast Squad while the Lieutenant made arrangements for transportation back to HQ. Sitting in what had likely been a janitor's closet, I tried to think about what my next move should be. That our forces on Hefaux Prime had been infiltrated was certain, but how deeply entrenched was the enemy? How far up the command structure did the rot go? The knowledge that every friendly or seemingly loyal face could just be a mask weighed on my mind. There was no one left that I could trust.

So far, I had only been relieved of my weapons and patted down. Luckily, the troopers had missed the data-crystal inside the padded concealed pocket sewn into the liner of my uniform jacket. Knowing that I couldn't allow it to be confiscated, let alone discovered, I resolved to hide it the only way left to me. I swallowed it.

I'm not sure exactly how long they left me in that closet for sure, but the sun had slipped below the horizon when Cadet Heddock unlocked the door. "Commissar Tspesh," he said by way of greeting as he entered.

"Mr. Heddock."

As the door closed, I could see the face of Trooper Hennisen looking over Heddock's shoulder. Evidently, there would be no escaping from this particular closet. "The Lord Commissar's orders were that you were to be treated with due care and respect," he said as he handed me a small water pouch.

"Generous of him," I said as I took the pouch. Being dehydrated wasn't going to help my situation in the slightest, and I needed to keep my wits about me. I opened the container and sniffed at its contents before raising it to my lips and taking a sip.

Cadet Heddock watched me for a moment, something clearly weighing on his mind. "I wish that things had gone differently, sir," he said finally. "Why can you not see the righteousness of Animo's cause?"

I leaned back against the wall. "There is no righteousness to be found in Animo's war. Nor in the greater conflict, Cadet."

"Freedom from the tyranny of Imperial rule for the people of Hefaux Prime, nay, the entire Nelphi sector is a righteous cause, sir," he said passionately. "You know this sector's history as well as I! The Imperium came with one hand outstretched in brotherhood and the other with a drawn blade poised to strike! And when the people ignored that drawn blade and accepted the outstretched hand, the Imperium took everything we had! Our sons and daughters, our resources, our identity, our very souls!" Cadet Heddock squatted down in front of me, his breath smelling of fungus and foulness. "They took, and took, and took and for what? Nothing! The machine of the Imperium grinds the bones of the people of this sector into meal to make bread for the False-Emperor's wars!"

"The Emperor protects, Cadet," I replied in answer to his tirade. "A pity that you forget that He has protected this entire sector for thousands of years. If not for the God-Emperor and the Imperium, humanity would be lost to its enemies. Animo has chained Hefaux Prime, and it's people to a yoke far more sinister than the Imperium of Man." I shook my head, already tired of the exchange.

"Not so! The Hefaux system was strong! The only conqueror that posed any threat was the one that flew the Aquila! And only then because we thought you were our brothers!" Spittle flew from his mouth. "Animo has been chosen by the Gods to lead the people out from under the False-Emperor's shadow! He will lead us into the light and glory of the most Holy Ecclissiarch and Grandfather!" The Cadet was nearly frothing at the mouth he was so worked up, and the smell of fungus and rot was getting stronger with each breath he took. "How can you not see the truth?"

"I see the truth, Mr. Heddock, and I remain loyal to my Emperor and to my oaths. You have betrayed both in the name of fallen and false men. You were trained to fortify against and to counter the lies of men like Animo and Faceen!" I felt my lips form a disgusted sneer. "You have thrown your lot in with heretics and traitors and will be counted among them when the Emperor's light shines undaunted from the steps of Parliament. May he have mercy on your soul Ethaniel Heddock, because I will not!"

He struck at me then, his fist pistoning towards my face. Training and experience took over, and I grabbed his wrist, twisting as I came up. He yelled in surprise and pain as I forced him to choose between a broken wrist and his footing. Troopers Hennisen and Drovus wrenched open the door and drew a bead on me with their lasguns. "Release him!" Private Hennisen growled. "Don't make us light you up!"

I glared at the primed lasguns and then at the troopers before releasing the Cadet, shoving him away from me. "If you are lucky, you will live long enough to see the people of Hefaux Prime rise up as one behind their Hero, corpse-worshiper!" Heddock snarled out the words through teeth clenched in pain. "Lord Commissar Gargona isn't known to be merciful with cowards and traitors."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't show your face at HQ," I replied, mastering my own anger.

They stood there for a moment, the Cadet Commissar flanked on either side by the troopers, their lasguns still pointed at me. I wondered then if he would order them to fire. The looks on Hennisen and Drovus's faces said that they would like nothing more than to pull the trigger. Instead, he turned around and instructed them to bind my hands before leaving the janitorial closet.

My wrists were bound behind me with plasteel binders, and I was left alone until the time came to transport me to HQ. Lieutenant Stebast had managed to secure a Chimera APC for the journey, and I was escorted into the troop hold. Cadet Heddock and the remainder of Stebast Squad acted as my escort as we exited the building. Few members of the 323rd were in attendance, most being engaged with preparations to be relieved. Those few I could see in the evening light glared at me stonily as we passed.

The trip was a quiet one. I sat locked into one of the crew restraint harnesses flanked on either side by Trooper's Hennisen and Drovus. Across the compartment from me sat the Cadet, Lieutenant and Trooper Bashaw. Cadet Heddock and Lieutenant Stebast spoke in hushed tones while looking at a dataslate. In the hours between when we boarded the APC and the driver's announcement that we had arrived at Parliament, the troop hold had begun to smell of fungus and the sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh.

Trooper Bashaw was looking in my direction when I wrinkled my nose at the rising scent. He cocked his head to one side. "Problem?"

The scents, as well as Stebast Squad's change of behaviour, must have triggered something in my subconscious. "No," I lied, a sick feeling welling up inside. "Well, that's not true exactly true. This entire situation is frakked!" The Cadet and Lieutenant Stebast looked up from where they were sitting. The Cadet's eyes were hard and cold, but the Lieutenants eyes, they were full of noxious mirth.

"You have no idea Commissar," she practically purred. I looked at her and then at the rest of the squad. Except for Cadet Heddock, the rest of my' companions' all had the same foul grin on their faces. The expressions were so similar that it chilled me to the bone. I remained silent for the rest of the journey to Parliament.

  
***********************************************

We arrived at Head Quarters in Parliament early in the day, the journey having taken most of the night. The former Arbites precinct was a self-contained fortress that had held as the last bastion of Imperial blood within the city during the first war. It had been defended with blood, sweat, and sacrifice. None of the fortress's original defenders now lived, the Arbites themselves fallen to the poisons the enemy had exposed them to over years of conflict and siege.

Once inside the gates, we were met by one of Lord Gargona's aide de camps, a Commissar by the name of Evilyn Kosala, who I had met once many years ago. She was accompanied by a Cadet-Commissar whom I did not recognize. The pair were escorted by four Imperial Guardsmen who, I assume, were there to take me into custody.

"Good day, Lieutenant," Commissar Kosalah said in a steady and robust tone. "We will take the prisoner from here."

"Yes sir," the Lieutenant saluted, as did the rest of her squad.

"Cadet-Commissar Heddock, you and Stebast Squad will accompany Cadet Masson here to your temporary billet. There you will wait until called upon to give testimony." She looked at me then for the first time, her eyes narrowing a touch. "Dismissed."

"Sir!" The Cadet's and squad Stebast saluted before returning to the troop compartment of the Chimera. I resisted the impulse to watch them leave, keeping my attention focused on Commissar Kosalah.

As the APC roared off, the four Guardsmen formed up around me. "Commissar Feodor Tspesh, you will be confined without deference of rank or accomplishments within the fortress. From this moment forward, your authority as a Commissar of the Ordo Prefectus is suspended." She turned her back and began to walk towards the buildings main entrance. "Take the prisoner away."

Two of the soldiers attempted to take me by the arms. I shrugged them off and said calmly. "I can walk by myself. At least allow me that dignity."

Commissar Kosalah looked over her shoulder. "Let him be gentlemen," she said. "Unless he tries something, then you have my permission to drag him by his nostrils if need be."

I nodded in gratitude, but she continued on her way without acknowledging the gesture.

"Move," one of the Guardsmen ordered before pushing me from behind. I reminded myself that they were only doing their jobs. They led me deep into the bowls of the fortress. We passed cell after cell, each populated by one or two prisoners awaiting judgement. Many of them were former Imperial Gaurd.

I was led down deeper into the facility, past the standard cells to those designed for solitary confinement. When we finally reached my cell, the Guardsman behind me gave me a slight shove. "In you go, Commissar," she said.

"We don't need to show 'im no respect, Sash," One of the other Guardsmen grumbled. "'Ew 'erd Commissar Kosalah, 'is authority 'as been rescinded."

Guardsman Sash just shrugged in response. I entered the cell and turned around to face them, nodding to Sash as they closed and sealed the door. I could barely hear the sound of the Guardsmen's boots as they walked away. Both the doors and the walls were thick. The cell itself was so small that to use the facilities, the narrow bunk attached to the wall needed to be lifted and secured against the wall.

I waited. Hours passed. At some point, a tray with laden with different coloured goop slid through a feeding hatch at the base of the door along with a foldable waxed paper cup with re-hydrating fluid in it. I ate the goop and drank the liquid with gusto. I had lost my disgust for re-hydrated and re-constituted nourishment a long time ago. Leaving the now empty tray at the slot in the door, I put the bunk back down and went to sleep.

I don't know how long I was asleep but when I awoke there was a shape perched at the end of the bunk. In the dim light of the cell's lumens, I could see nothing but the figure's outline. I sat up quickly, leaning my back against the cell wall. "Commissar," a raspy and modulated voice greeted me.

"Who are you?"

"To some, a friend. To others, executioner." The figure replied. "We need to speak, you and I."

"Which are you to me?" I asked calmly. If I were to go to meet the Emperor, my last moments would be spent as I lived; with faith in my Emperor, His Saints, and in myself.

"I haven't decided yet," The figure replied simply. "Tell me everything."

I crossed my arms. "Surely, you must know already."

"Pretend I don't, Commissar. I need to know everything."

"Why should I? It isn't a story I wish to tell more than once." I couldn't help keeping the exhaustion from my voice.

Moving slowly, it reached out until I could faintly see a gloved hand and within the palm rested the triple-barred "I" of the Inquisition, glowing slightly of its own accord. "Humour me, Commissar Tspesh."

***********************************************

"I told the figure everything I have now repeated," I said slowly, letting my words settle in the room like ash. The Lord Commissars were staring at Inquisitor Van Staal. "I suspect now that my visitor was the ravishing Inquisitor Van Staal or one of her servants."

Lord Commissar Gargona let out a deep sigh. "What is the meaning of this Inquisitor?"

Van Staal raised an eyebrow. "The situation here with Commissar Tspesh coincided with my own on-going investigations, and so I took a personal interest."

"Convenient," Lord Commissar Severite growled. "Feodor Tspesh is being court-martialed for treason, cowardice, and dereliction of duty! His own testimony damns him!"

"I'm well aware of both the charges against him and the veracity of his memories, my Lord Commissar," the Inquisitor responded coolly.

"What of his memory of the interaction with Animo and the Hallowed?" Lord Commissar Amadeu asked, her arms crossed in front of her in a rare show of irritation. Or... was that amusement on her face?

Inquisitor Van Staal shifted her gaze to Amadeu. "His description of the event is authentic. Restored with our intervention over multiple sessions while he remained incarcerated below," she responded.

"And the data crystal?"

"Recovered and analyzed by members of my retinue. It too is authentic."

The atmosphere of the room suddenly became hostile. From where I stood chained to the podium, I could feel the fulcrum of the moment swing from one extreme to the next. It was then that I became aware of the light touch of the Inquisitor's mind as it watched from behind my eyes, observing my every thought.

 _~ Now is the moment, ~_ Her thoughts whispered inside my mind. I looked up at the tribunal and felt Van Staal's psychic vision overlay my own. Time slowed as I passed my gaze over each of them. I took in the entire scene. One of these Lord Commissars sitting before me in judgement is Animo, but who?

Lord Commissar Gargona, the Shield of Carafax Hive sat with his hand resting in such a manner that he could draw the bolt pistol at his hip in seconds. His face was paler than it was before, and the pupil of his remaining natural eye had grown wide. His extensive cybernetic augmentations, acquired during his defence of Carafax Hive, revealed nothing of his demeanour. I thought about his bulk compared to that of Animo's recalling no sign of augmentation. I knew then that Gargona understood what was happening at this moment as well.

I glanced next at Lord Commissar Severite. Like Gargona, he sat with his hand near the bolt pistol at his side. Unlike Gargona, he had no cybernetic augmentations. While I watched, a slight smirk appeared just before he licked his lips. The Hero of Hefaux Prime, her adopted son, was beloved by the people. Captured by the enemy and fought his way free. The hero, I remembered Cadet Heddock's words in the Janitorial Closet. It could be him.

Far away, I felt a compact pistol of an unfamiliar configuration being slipped into my hand. _~ My forces are in position, take action, and we will take care of the rest Commissar. ~_ The Inquisitor's voice whispered.

My eyes settled on the final member of the tribunal. The Iron Lady of the Triaxium Crusade, Lord Commissar Amadeu. She sat calmly looking directly at the Inquisitor. Her arms still folded across her chest. Like the others, her uniform was encrusted by medals and symbols of her rank and status. Like Gargona, she had won her laurels out in the greater Nelphi region before being assigned to oversee the fleet assets assigned to the Hefaux system. This re-assignment had come after being wounded in battle. As she raised her eyes to meet mine, the wet but false flash of a high-end cosmetic pupil announced the presence of the augment in her skull. I broke eye contact with her to look at the Iron Starburst of the Triaxium crusade as the Lord Commissar uncrossed her arms.

I had seen both before. Inquisitor Van Staal's frighteningly potent mind followed the trail of my memories like a bloodhound. There, the memory of the pict Misken had taken, the distinct shape of the Iron Starburst just barely visible under Animo's cloak of human faces. There, the wet flash of the pupil in a high quality augmetic behind Animo's mask as she looked down at me, the ruination of Stebast Squad lying around us.

Real-time reasserted itself on my conscious as Lord Commissar Amadeu drew her bolt pistol and fired at the Inquisitor. At the same moment, I lunged forwards, my chains snapping where Van Staal had touched them earlier and bore the Inquisitor down to the ground. The bolt round whistled over my head passing through where she had been standing only a half second before. The room erupted into violence.

Lord Commissar Severit drew, turned, and fired at Gargona, striking him in the chest and dropping him to the ground. The aide de camps of both Severite and Amadeu in turn gunned down Gargona's aides. I glanced quickly around as Amadeu stood. Inquisitor Van Staal's remaining Guardsman was nowhere to be seen. I prepared to rise and take as many of the bastards with me. _~Not yet. Wait,~_ Van Staal's voice echoed inside my mind. _~ It'll take more than a bolt round to kill Gargona. ~_

"Not quite how I expected his to end," Amadeu said. I looked up at the dais.

Severite was shaking his head. "Nor I," then he grinned. "That was satisfying, though. I've wanted to kill that bastard Gargona for a long time now."

"His most unholy would have preferred that he join us, but it couldn't be helped," Amadeu replied as, as the Inquisitor stood. "You, however, Niobe, he most definitely wants dead."

"Even promised to elevate whoever brought your head to him," Severite sighed forlornly. "How shall we decide who gets the pleasure?" He glanced at Amadeu.

"I wouldn't concern myself with deciding that just yet. You're not going to live to see tomorrow." I promised, rising to my feet beside the Inquisitor.

As he started to laugh in response, Amadeu turned to the surviving aides-de-camp. "Kill them."

All four raised their bolt pistols as one and pulled the trigger. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. I looked at the Inquisitor standing before me, the air around her shimmered as if she were radiating heat. The bolt pistols in the hands of the traitor's vibrated with the strain as the firing mechanism vied with the power of Van Staal's mind. "Don't just stand there, Tspesh," she growled.

I reacted without hesitation, raising the weapon I had been given. I snapped off four brilliant emerald beams of energy that blasted the traitor aides-de-camp from their feet. Both traitor Lord Commissars raised their own bolt pistols and fired in my direction only to have both rounds to be blasted to pieces by two other green energy blasts from above. I now had an idea where the Inquisitor's other Guardsman had gone.

Four detonations echoed through the chamber as the Inquisitor released her will. "Elias Severite, Cassandra Amadeu, drop your weapons," she ordered. They glared at her, but they stood alone against an unknown sniper of apparently flawless skill, an Inquisitor, and myself.

"You win this round, Inquisitor," Cassandra Amadeu complimented as she tossed her bolt pistol to the ground. Nodding to Elias Severit to do the same.

"I think that this is game, set, and match Animo." She replied.

Severit chuckled. "Oh no, Inquisitor," he started to say as a horn began to sprout from the right side of his forehead.

"This is far from finished," Amadeu finished for him, licking her lips as a horn sprouted from the left side of her forehead.

A foul, sickly sweet wind rushed through the room despite it being sealed. Blooms of mould and fungus started crawling from the bodies of the aide de camps I had gunned down. It oozed towards the feet of the two traitorous Commissars. Leering faces starting forming in the slime and mould surrounding them.

The Inquisitor looked at the door behind us and then at me. "Gird yourself in your faith in the God-Emperor, Commissar. Something wicked this way comes."

"It has never wavered, Inquisitor," I replied as calmly as I could as I watched with mounting horror as the Amadeu and Severite's flesh began to flow like wax. Horrid ecstatic screams ripped from their throats. I fired another brilliant green beam into the mass and watched with chagrin as the charred hole filled with rot and slime.

Van Staal shook her head, strawberry locks falling over her face. "Save your ammunition, Commissar. Even a Jokaero laspistol will not avail us against this lord of corruption."

I quickly looked around the room for something, anything, that would be of some kind of assistance against the unholy creature that was birthing itself from the ruination of the Lord Commissars. Burbling laughter echoed throughout the Assembly Hall. "Witness the glory granted to the most devoted servants of Ecclesiarch Faceen. Look upon the eternal face of Animocecphoxis and despair!"

The sound of the voice of the entity before us forced bile to rise in my throat. I choked it down and looked at it for the first time. The monster stood nearly the height of a Space Marine. Its arms and legs were stick-thin and covered with weeping sores but also with corded muscle. Its bloated belly wept viscous pus from uncounted lacerations and wounds. The faces of Severite and Amadeu pushed at the scabrous flesh, their visages one of horror and exaltation. I cannot describe to you the face of the creature. The memory of it stills the tongue and steals the voice.

"Do not gaze on its visage overlong, Commissar!" The Inquisitor cried. "This foe will steal your soul and feed upon it for eternity if given a chance!" A bolt of golden light flew from her hand, carving a glowing furrow through its flesh.

Animocecphoxis screamed and then laughed. "Is that all you are capable of servant of the Corpse-Emperor? "It giggled and stuck a clawed finger into the wound playing with the meat and ichor inside. Large goblets of fat and viscera dropped to the fungi and slime covered floor. Where they landed, smaller horror's dragged themselves from the muck. "Oooh," It cooed. "Look what we have here! Hello my brothers and sisters, welcome to the party!"

"Can I shoot those?" I cried, raising the Jokaero pistol and aiming at the shapes forming.

"Yes!"

Emerald beams, much like the one from my pistol, rained down from above. In between shots, I glanced up in the direction that the blasts were coming from. Up in the upper balcony, I could see the barrel of a longlas. Guardsman Dugg, who I have now made acquaintances with gave me a jaunty little wave. Knowing that he had our backs made it easier to focus on the battle in front of me.

Van Staal stood apart, a golden aura flickering like flames around her. "By the Grace and Glory of the Master of Mankind, I abjure thee fickle Daemon of Rot and Decay! In the name of the God-Emperor, I bind thee! In the names of the Saints and of the Primarchs I defy thee!" The golden radiance flared around her and struck the horror full in the face. This time its screams of pain shook the walls surrounding us. "Now! Kill it!"

Impossibly, whatever she had done had caused the daemon to not only bleed, but its wounds were not recovering. The sound of a chainsword engine screaming rose from behind the horror, and it partially turned. Lord Commissar Gargona brought his weapon down, shearing a withered arm from its shoulder. At the same moment, brilliant green las bolts rained down on the daemon, missing the Lord Commissar completely. I fired until the pistol in my hand clicked dry.

Bellowing in pain, Animocecphoxis backhanded the already wounded Gargona across the Assembly Hall into the far wall. The impact shook the room. "I am your doom, Mortals!" it screamed. A sickly green beam lanced out of the daemon's hand to strike the Inquisitor, threatening to overwhelm the golden aura.

 _~ Feodor, ~_ Van Staal's voice whispered. _~ In minutes, we will be dead unless we can kill the daemon. ~_

_~ How the hell am I supposed to help kill it! My weapon is drained! ~_

_~ The crest behind the daemon! The blades are not just for show! ~_

I looked at the paired sabres that crossed behind the crest of the former Governor's house. "Got it!" I ran towards the dais with every ounce of speed I possessed. Guardsman Dugg blasted my way clear of the little daemons that formed in my way. The daemon's laughter rolled through me as I grabbed one of the sabres and slid it from its sheath. One of the little daemons, launched itself at me giggling. As it's filthy claws scythed down towards me, I managed to activate the blade's power fields and sheer through the rancid meat of its body.

I turned around to see Animocecphoxis slowly advancing on the Inquisitor. The aura of gold fire was flickering, threatening to be consumed by the foul energies of the daemon. It giggled as it stalked towards her. One of the little horror's leapt at me again, only to end up split in two.

I looked down at the sabre in my hand, etched onto the glowing blade was the symbol of the Emperor, the Aquila. I felt a sense of peace flow over me. The Emperor protects.

Knowing that it might mean my death, I charged the daemonic horror. Animocecphoxis was so intent on overwhelming Van Staal and so unconcerned with me it completely ignored my charge. The sabre slipped through its guts without resistance, it's power field discharging violently.

Its scream was deafening; part rage and part pain. Black blood laced with pus and maggots oozed from the hole in its belly. The scream died down into a burbling chuckle. "Oh, well done little mortal! Well done indeed! I had forgotten about you, tasty morsel." The daemon turned and swiped lazily at me with a festering claw.

I ducked underneath the blow. I instinctively knew that to be wounded by those claws would bring both an excruciating death and eternal damnation. I lunged past the monstrosity, my blade scoring deeply into Animocecphoxis' flank. The stench of its fluids causing me to gag and retch. Laughing, it flung the filth from its wounds at both the Inquisitor and myself. "More children for Grandfather! More children for Nurgle!" It shouted before giggling some more.

To hear the name of one of the Ruinous Powers nearly drove me to my knees. The smaller daemons continued to spawn from the filth that now covered the Assembly Hall floor. The cavorted with one another and occasionally attacked us. We were rapidly reaching the tipping point where Guardsman Dugg would either run out of ammunition, or they would spawn faster then he could blast them.

 _~ Keep it distracted, Commissar! ~_ Van Staal's voice rang inside my head. I could see the golden glow of her aura getting brighter from over the daemon's shoulder.

I gritted my teeth, slashed at a little daemon spawning at my feet, and stalked towards Animocecphoxis. Its eyes widened in pleasure at the game of cat and mouse we were playing. "Oh little mortal, little Commissar Tspesh. They hated you, did you know that?" it cooed and stroked the faces on its stomach.

"Why?" I asked, dodging another lazy swipe.

It grinned and spoke with Amadeu's voice. "You represent everything I hated! The perfect Commissar. Flawlessly loyal to corrupt masters who grease the wheels of the Imperium with the blood of its people."

This time I parried the daemon's claws my repost slashing the meat of its arm to ribbons. "Hardly perfect, traitor. I have my flaws, like all men."

Severit's laugh tumbled from its lips. "We had grown up together, her and I. The first to join me and kneel before his Holiness. You gunned her down like a dog and were commended for it!"

"Thus, shall all traitors be judged!" I snarled. "You're hatred of me is inconsequential and hollow. May the daemon you spawned feast on your souls before I send it tumbling back to hell!" Animocecphoxis and I traded blows as it slowly drove me backwards. Each strike I parried made my arm numb. Each cut I made only made it laugh.

"Oooh, Feodor!" Animocecphoxis giggled. "They so want your flesh!" It reached for me. Distracted by the focus needed to keep the daemon at bay, I did not see the smaller daemon taking shape behind me. It giggled as it tied itself up in my legs and caused me to stumble momentarily.

It was enough. Animocecphoxis lunged and grabbed me around my throat. "The jig is up, dear boy!" It crowed with delight. My skin stung, and my nostrils filled with phlegm as it's corrupting touch began to taint my flesh. The strength started to flee my arm as buboes and sores started to cover my face and arms. I knew then that I was going to die in the arms of this horror.

Yet at that moment I heard the Inquisitor cry out in a powerful voice. "In the name of the God-Emperor, protector and ruler of Mankind, I smite thee!" Her golden aura flared as bright at the sun. Though I stared directly into it, her light did not blind me. Animocecphoxis, however, screamed in torment as the golden fire touched its form. "Return thyself to the nest of your Unclean Lord! Begone from the realms of mortals!"

The smaller daemons fell to ash where the golden light touched them. Animocecphoxis no longer giggled and chortled. It's mouth opened wide to emit a hollow moaning as it's flesh blackened, but it's clawed hand only tightened.

With the last of my strength, I placed the blade of the power sword against the daemon's throat and pushed. As my vision darkened, I watched as the head of the fiend slid from its shoulders and split like an overripe melon when it struck the ground. "This isn't over lapdogs of Anathema!" It cried from ruined lips, it's worm-like tongue lapping at its own filth. "More shall come to take my place!"

A hail of emerald green bolts rained down from above blasting the head of Animocecphoxis into a burning slurry. It's head destroyed, the daemon's body began to dissolve, dropping me to the ground. My breath came in ragged breaths, and I coughed up gobs of dark blood. A loud crash and the sound of moral voices reached my ears. In the tulmut, one voice echoed in my mind. _~ Hold on Commissar! Help has come! ~_ And then I knew no more.


	8. Epilogue

When I awoke, I found myself alone in a well-appointed room laying in the middle of a four-poster canopy bed. The heavy curtains had been drawn back, probably to facilitate the many medical apparatuses connected to various points on my anatomy. A medicae servitor, it's face covered by a plasteel mask marked with the fleur-de-lis on one cheek and a glowing candle on the other, quietly rolled over to the bedside. As it ran its scanning appendage over my body, two figures entered the room. The Lord Commissar Gargona, looking none the worse for wear, and Inquisitor Van Staal approached my bedside.

"Good to see you made it through my boy," Gargona said in greeting. "It was touch and go for a while there."

"What happened?" I asked, only managing a whisper.

The Lord Commissar glanced at the Inquisitor. "You were badly infected by Animocecphoxis' pestilence as well as wounded," Van Staal explained. "We nearly lost you."

"That's putting it mildly," Gargona rumbled. "The Inquisitor, here Interegator, and two Sisters from the Order of the Eternal Candle ministered to you physically and psychically for two days straight before you started being on the mend."

"Why did you not simply kill me?"

Inquisitor Van Staal was silent for a moment. "You were central to unravelling the Animo's grip and eliminating it. Some amongst the Inquisition may dispose of assets under similar circumstances but not I." She shrugged and then flashed me a disarming smile. "Besides, had you proven to be irrevocably corrupted by your experience, we would have burned you where you rested."

"Charming," I whispered, my throat still burned. "What happened to the Daemon? Why did it consume Amadeu and Severite?"

"Animocecphoxis has been banished back to the warp. It won't be able to return for quite some time," she responded. "As for Severite and Amadeu? We believe that the seeds of their corruption were planted long before the Heretic Faceen ignited the fires of war. We might never know, how or why they fell, but it's clear now that the fallen Ecclissiarch has made numerous pacts with the Ruinous Powers. We believe that Amadeu and Severite willingly gave themselves over to that monster. It was to be their Ace in the Hole."

"What of Cadet Commissar Heddock and the Hallowed masquerading as Stebast Squad?"

The Inquisitor sighed regretfully. "Officially, Cadet Commissar, Stebast Squad, the Lord Commissars Severit and Amadeu, and their aide de camps all perished defending Parliament City. Animo and the Shriven took advantage of your Court Martial and attacked. Animo himself has officially been confirmed killed. Your former regiment, the 323rd will be seconded en mass to another regiment."

I sighed. That the truth of the matter would be obfuscated was hardly a surprise. "Unofficially?"

"Cadet Heddock could not be saved. We tried, but he had willingly given himself over to Animo's corruption in the end. He was executed by Lord Gargona personally. The Shriven within Imperial ranks have all been eliminated and their remains purged. This includes the ones masquerading as Stebast and her men." I think she might have been reading my mind because she answered my next question without me asking. "The clean-up of our forces continues, but your memories have made it impossible for them to hide."

I lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the medicae equipment and the Lord Commissar's heavily augmented form. Finally, I asked the question that sealed my fate. "What happens now?"

Lord Commissar Gargona smiled slightly. "Your name has been cleared and your commission restored. You have also been awarded a commendation from both the Officio Prefectus and the Inquisition."

"All due respect, Lord Commissar, but I detect a 'but' there."

He sighed, a mechanical wheeze escaping his augmented form. "Indeed."

"Henceforth, you will be joining my retinue Commissar Tspesh," the Inquisitor stated matter of factly. "As soon as the good Sisters are satisfied that your recovery is well underway, you will be transported to my ship, the Reumate. There you will finish your recovery before returning to duty. Any questions?"

"Only one. Why? Surely with the loss of two Lord Commissars, I could be of great use here instead." As always, duty comes before personal gain.

"That point was brought up already my boy," Gargona replied. "While it's true a decorated Commissar would indeed be an asset the Inquisitor Van Staal made a persuasive argument."

"Other then she's an Inquisitor you mean?"

She smiled. "Yes. While there is that, there are two other reasons. The first is that with Animo and the majority of the Hallowed dead, we believe the remaining Shriven will be ill-prepared to mount an effective conflict with Imperial Forces for much longer. Frankly, the war here is over for all intents and purposes."

Gargona winced. "I still don't completely agree, Inquisitor, but Command disagrees with me."

"I have every confidence in your abilities to oversee the remainder of the conflict, Gargona." the Inquisitor patted his mechanical arm genially. "The second is much less friendly. You strike me as someone who speaks his mind, Commissar. While you seem to be finally free of Animocecphoxis' corruption, we are still taking a risk. I can keep an eye on you while you are part of my entourage. Otherwise, you are too much of a risk to leave alive."

"I see. When do we leave?"

  
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"So that's the story of how Niobe recruited me, all those years ago," Feodor said as he relaxed against the stack of platisiform crates; taking a sip from a steaming cup of re-cafe. "I've lost count of the number of times we've saved each other's lives fighting against the enemies of Mankind." Feodor Tspesh was no longer dressed in the uniform of the Commissar. His style of dress had changed over the years of association with the Inquisitor and her retinue. Odd looking scars, ragged and flowing, disappeared beneath the colour of the long black cloak and blood-red body suit he wore.

"I deeply appreciate you sharing it with me," Abd al-Da'ud said. The young Medicae who had just joined the retinue following the destruction of Socotra sat across from him on another crate. He stared into his cup.

The former Commissar nodded. "You need to know Abd, in all the years I've known her, the Inquisitor has never thrown away lives." He watched Abd's face twitch with restrained emotion. "She would never declare Exterminatus unless she truly believed there was no other course of action. The plague was an Extermination level event."

"So you all keep telling me," Abd said quietly. "Does what happened to Socotra not bother you, Feodor?"

"I wouldn't really be human if it didn't." he sighed. "To watch all life on a planet be consumed in fire is both horrifying and terrible to behold."

They sat silently for a few minutes; Feodor sipping his recaf while Abd stared at his. Both of their vox beads chimed at the same time followed by the Inquisitor's Spymaster, Obadiah Ken, came over the channel. "We will be arriving at the planetary defence ring in two hours. All assets are to return to The Nest for briefing."

Feodor sighed and swallowed the last of his cup. "Well, let's go. Forktail will get upset if we're late."

The young medicae nodded before standing and doing the same. "Does Master Ken always refer to this ship's staterooms as "The Nest"?"

The former Commissar laughed as he rose. "Yes. Master Ken does love his code words." He smiled slightly. "Don't you Obi?"

"As I've mentioned before, Tspesh, please don't call me that." Abd's eyes widened as he realized that the Spymaster had still been listening. "Calamity has requested that you bring your bolt pistol with you. She wishes to reconsecrate the targeter housing."

Feodor grinned at his companion. "Acknowledged, Forktail. Please tell Ibis that Besra and Bluebird will attend her in the Nest in a few minutes." The vox made an audible "click" as the Spymaster cut the connection. Feodor chuckled.

"Bluebird?" Abd asked as they started walking towards the bay doors.

"That's you, my friend." He smiled. "The Inquisitor loves birds."

"Why Bluebird though?" Abd frowned.

"You'll have to ask her, my friend." Feodor Tspesh replied as they exited the cargo hold. "She always has her reasons."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This is the first story I've been able to finish in a very very long time! A huge thank you to each and every one of you who have taken the time to read it! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm going to spend some time finishing Storm Talens before I move onto anything else but I really enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Are there characters you'd like to know more about? Worlds or concepts you'd be interested in me exploring? Let me know in the comments!


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